


Reciprocity

by Hyacinthium



Series: Interspecific*Co-operation [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Begging, Blood and Injury, Condoms, Dirty Talk, Disturbing Themes, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Self-Hatred, Sexual Fantasy, Snuff Kink, gore kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2019-10-08 04:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17379269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: It's been a while since they've started dating and Shuichi has a conundrum. Multiple ones if he's being honest. But he's happier, Kokichi seems happier, and for once Shuichi isn't hurting for oxygen. Yet, with that sweetness comes the inevitablity of confrontation.Meanwhile, Kokichi has plans of his own and just as many problems.





	1. Mutualism

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back, 
> 
> Back again, 
> 
> The Mutuality boys. 
> 
> Well, I've been going on about this for... A while on my twitter lol. I've basically been considering it since the original. Having Kiibo cock block everyone, which includes me, is too sad. So here we go! Writing smut and actually tying lose ends. 
> 
> All tags that I forsee myself absolutely using are pre-added, but not all apply for this chapter.

Saihara Shuichi has a huge dilemma on his hands. 

And it's all utterly, completely, the fault of Ouma Kokichi. Not once before has Shuichi ever felt so strung up and conflicted. Well, that's not actually true. The boy has always been prone to internal and external anxiety. Certain things just make that element worsen. It's not even really Kokichi's fault either. Shuichi just can't come to a final conclusion on how the other boy feels.

Does Kokichi find Shuichi’s interests to ultimately be disgusting? Does he think that it's something that needs to be quarantined? Does the boy really find it perfectly fine so long as it's within the realm of imagination or fiction? 

There are so many possibilities in so far as what Kokichi has said, in so far as what Shuichi can interpret. Kokichi's feelings can be anything along that slippery scope of a scale. Still, the boy does what he does. He writes things that feel like sultry dances done just to incite. It's just rather clear that the quiet boy isn't as into gore or snuff. Not that way that Shuichi is into it at the very least, especially on the snuff end. One thing that the boy remembers is remarks that express a preference against death. Then again, Kokichi always writes the best possible replies on a consistent basis. He even does research on anatomy- if only the kind you'd find in articles and not in certain stretches of the Web. 

Yet none of that the main source of Shuichi’s insomnia. These habitual doubts are much less reoccurring now. 

Out of everything that could cause relationship insecurities-

Kokichi has been Shuichi’s boyfriend for quite some time, many months, but they've only kissed a handful of times. It's not like he expects things on the scale of their first date. Public affection is by no means a necessary activity at all. Shuichi himself can get very embarrassed about PDA. He still can't help but wonder about it though. Their roleplaying and online dating has flourished into something truly intimate, even in the more public or sfw ones. Not a second of hesitation happened before Kokichi loudly announced the dating. Which still garners ‘what but I thought you two were married’. 

Either way, for all the borderline love making that they do online… Kokichi barely even holds Shuichi’s hand. 

Physical affection and Ouma Kokichi result in one of two things. The most common is shades of avoidance. The second is intense and mostly nonsexual contact wherein Kokichi transforms into a tiny little leach. He'll eat up Shuichi’s body heat as if dying. Nothing but hugs or something approaching sitting in Shuichi’s lap, for hours. Usually after a particularly intense rp session. 

It's simply the most confusing thing. Shuichi doesn't find it particularly bad, no, but he can't stand this strain of confusion. The complex thoughts and opinions are something he can happily live with. He certainly has more than enough of his own. In full honesty, the boy finds himself being comforted by Kokichi's thought processes on it all. Liking what he likes hurts less when he follows Kokichi's reasoning. More standards, more structure, and maybe even slightly less harmful imaginings. 

As odd as it is to admit, Shuichi barely finds himself seeing his own disgusting fantasies in anything but two dimensions these days. It must be a byproduct of not looking at real gore anymore. Even if he still imagines himself and Kokichi. Or in a different respect, even that… 

Shuichi shifts over to the other side of his bed and opens his eyes. Tonight is just going to be another one of those nights. At the same time he just doesn't want to go crawling into the rp logs. Doing that would feel slimy and gross in a bad way. Honestly, the boy understands that Kokichi has probably been clear. It's probably his own frantically twisting mind that created these strangely negative interpretations. Just a product made by Shuichi, for Shuichi, and with Shuichi’s fears. 

Being kept up at night like this though- he knows almost exactly what Kokichi would say about it. 

Maybe something like 'It's not entirely your fault that your brain is a dumbass. Just tell me about it and make that tea I gave you, you stupid Dumpling. We'll talk and shoot the shit until you pass out!'.

What Kokichi usually means by shoot the shit is, shit on that stupid shitter over there. Not the worst thing to fall asleep to. The other boy went offline hours ago though. Having a test first thing in the morning isn't very conductive to all nighters. Passing out to the sight of Kokichi's half performance vitriol is still nice.

Lips parting in favor of exhaling warm air, Shuichi gives up and lays on his belly. He pats around under his large pillows and pulls out his phone. It takes a total of ten seconds to open up the app they use to communicate, and the boy's eyes glare up at the screen from under thick eyelashes. His eyes feel like they're burning out of him. Both hands hold the phone at the top of the pillow, with Shuichi’s mouth swallowed by fabric, and the first thing he sees makes him let out a happy little groan. It's only five minutes old too. 

[>NervousKimchi 

Hey Shumai, I found a cute gore cafe that seems really good! It's on that So and So Street place, and the reviews say that it's really nice.]

Tapping the link under that message makes Shuichi's tired eyelids crinkle with surprise. He knows the cafe quite well. Various Danganronpa events and fan meet ups get hosted there all the time. Every type of fan can find enjoyment in such a setting. A cute and pastel setting paired with the morbid, it's exactly the type of place that suits Ouma Kokichi. In addition, in one day is the Sunday that it reopens with an updated menu. 

[>DumplingGore 

I actually know the owner! I can probably get us in early if you want? Things will probably be crowded otherwise.] 

Shuichi watches those three dots taunt his insomniac brain.

[>NervousKimchi 

That sounds great! I'm really interested in those pancakes and not so much any crowd... It's basically a constant but unofficial DR place too. I don't want to hear people bitch about my blog on a date again lol.]

Five minutes of senseless talking ensues before Shuichi finds himself unable to read. His boyfriend seems to understand what he uses to say goodnight with, and the boy carefully kisses the heart emoji that Kokichi sends. With that he hides the phone back under his pillow. Then, fuzzy in his edges, Shuichi flops onto his back and closes his eyes.

[>NervousKimchi 

<3 good night Saihara-chan <3

Stop staying up unless you want me to come over and clean up your bedroom again. Your closet looked like it had a bed in it and I know that you only consistently clean your merch. 

Totes shaming you for when you check this tmr lol]

There's something about the combination of the menu and Kokichi that haunts him. It's pathetic, really. He's had a minor fixation on eyes ever since that first date. There's at least one little soda float with fake eyes involved. Maybe Kokichi will buy one with his pancakes, and tease Shuichi by rolling it in his mouth. 

Ah… 

By the time morning comes there is only rushing involved. Shuichi has to rush breakfast, rush his shower, and scramble to get dressed. It's definitely not unusual for him to do this. He's still caught off guard by it though. But the boy is still fully ready by the time he's running out the door while chewing omelet. A single thought about toast being more canon to the Ultimate Detective of season Forty runs through his mind. Unfortunately, Shuichi has no toast to eat while running to school. 

Kokichi would probably laugh from the mere mental image if he did, so. Maybe next time.

Ignoring all the distractions that threaten to slow him is hard. Shuichi has to march to school without sprinting for fear of sweat, which means really swift walking. Nothing is worse than having to sit down with sweat sticking your uniform to you. It's a fact that Shuichi knows quite well. Various other things try to steal his attention too- such as a veritable hoard of black cats being herded by three old ladies. Fearful witches, the boy has no choice but to to wait. 

A broken down car, a pair of foreigners with scary video cameras, and the ever looming specter of the bell. Prickling with the start of sweat, Shuichi is barely on time. Then he get to power walk into class too. Sounds of asphalt and daily life grind at his ear drums. But his forever hungover home teacher says nothing as the boy plummets into his seat. Neither do his classmates. 

"Safe..." the boy murmurs into his personal space.

He doesn't stay safe for long. 

Perpetually hungover Harukawa-sensei wastes no time in encouraging the start of the day. The man doesn't even wait to let everyone sit down, merely waiting for daily pleasantries of school life to finish. Harukawa-sensei just coughs before whipping out tests. It's nothing that should be a problem for Shuichi or his boyfriend. Yet, the boy finds himself inwardly groaning. Even the sight of the paper is like a crime. 

An affront to Shuichi’s ability to watch Kokichi eat fluffy pancakes covered with a special blood orange and strawberry topping that looks like blood and organs but not. It's that, a mental image of deep vermillion sticking to soft pink lips, that makes Shuichi assault his test papers. He finishes rather quickly and checks over his answers twice.

Wanting to see the other boy slowly consume such a thing is probably creepy. Shuichi can accept that and stands up to turn his test in, spotting Kokichi do the same. The boys glance at each other and Shuichi can't help but blush. Even the apathetic look of 'Kokichi at school' is alluring now. All and any of everything about Ouma Kokichi makes alarm bells go off. Purple eyes merely blink, slow but nearly coy, and Shuichi looks away.

Their hands brush as they hand back their tests. Again as they walk towards empty seats. 

"Ah, you two can... Read. Do whatever, and stay quiet if you're Saihara-kun," Harukawa-sensei bluntly says. There's the usual indignation at the implications. 

Shuichi is plenty quiet and the monolithic treatment of Kokichi as a mute not worth consideration burns. Of course, it's factual that the other boy never makes so much as a peep. Not in school or in places where so many people can hear. Guilty again, that's the feeling, because Shuichi understands noe that this class doesn't just pity their small and wilting classmate. There's a certain breed of condescending moral superiority lurking in it all. 

Muddy eyes and a pale face subtly turn. 

Kokichi looks bored at his window seat, and it makes Shuichi's fingers itch for his phone. Both of them always have the things on silent. Sending a text should be fine. There are hundreds of pre-written starters that Shuichi has in an easy to navigate app. He's still writing more once or twice a week. Along with a list of things to talk about or offer. Ideas to write. 

Ideas to try out someday, maybe, and things that Kokichi would look cute in-

Purple eyes again make contact in a way that makes heat wash over Shuichi’s entire body. 

Looking away as fast as humanly possible doesn't save him. There is no amount of swiftness that prevents Shuichi’s eyes from working. Just then, in mere seconds, Kokichi smiles something fondly sultry that is undeniably not the product of Shuichi’s mind. Words do not exist for how aroused the boy is. Instant and uncomfortably strong in that he can't help be consumed by it. Kokichi is an unfair temptation. That's all that can be said. 

Gulping, Shuichi tries to ignore how his lower body grows warmer. Paying attention to the stubborn little twitches would be a mistake. The boy pulls out his phone and sighs at the sight of Kirigiri Kyouko. If only he were a detective like her, not even an Ultimate Detective either, Shuichi would have this issue. Maybe if this were his private office with antique furniture. 

Yes, he'd be able to not be in school. Which would mean that Kokichi's cute little smiles wouldn't be this embarrassment inducing. Shuichi would only have to approach his client a little. Closer, more casually, and then they'd be so close that-

They would kiss. After months of tension, investigation, and a slowly growing affection. Fantasy Shuichi and fantasy Kokichi would finally kiss inside of that sophisticated office room. While alone and as the rain pours outside. 

Fantasy Kokichi would give that almost smug smile and mockingly admit to being the killer, though Shuichi would already have known... 

A twisting and churning emotion lights up Shuichi’s body as he opens his apps. Swallowing down spit, while he quickly writes down the idea, and carefully hiding the phone become his world. Writing or reading a plot containing such a haunting yet romantic slow burn would be amazing. The killer trying to create a fun game by hiring a freelance detective/PI to solve their own crime because the police can't. Kokichi should be skilled at playing such an excitement hungry role. If only for both of them quietly fall in love during the investigation. Followed by a cat and mouse game of mutual by unsure suspicions.

Not even something frantic, absolutely not, it should be a romance befitting the atmosphere of that office in Shuichi’s head. Foggy windows with rain. Smoke drifting from a crystal ashtray. Once richly colored hardwood. Warm cups of coffee and dark chocolate, sly smiles with meaningful looks. 

Blood artistically splattered on brick walls by one precise slice of the neck. By Kokichi.

Shuichi breathes heavily through his nose, fails to ignore his erection, and sends the idea to Kokichi. The other boy will probably take a while to respond but... 

[>NervousKimchi 

Wow. You're really horny today.]

"Weiihhhh!" quietly escapes the boy's lips. He's never been this flushed in his life. Except for the time Kokichi said his name. Or when Kokichi attacked his mouth on that first date. Also, whenever the boy gets touchy and curls up on his lap. Holding hands in public. Sexting. "Nnngh."

[>NervousKimchi 

My Saihara-chan can't be this horny! It's as if he's going to tell me that he's hard right now... But I'm pretty sure that I can recognize when my boyfriend's having an eminent penile eruption moment. Maybe you can sneak off to the bathroom.]

[>DumplingGore 

Did you like the idea?]

[>NervousKimchi 

I wouldn't mind kidnapping a,far too willing mind you, private investigator in order to show him my creepy sex dungeon. The more pure and beautiful something is, the satisfying it is to corrupt it! Sometimes. Or maybe the cute investigator isn't pure at all. It's definitely plausible. Killerkichi could have fucked up. Honestly, a killer that does that shit us probably begging for a hot detective to fuck him up. Jail me, Saihara-chan. In your vaguely Victorian sounding bedroom. 

Make me a born again Christian and give me a bowl of eggs ‘ooo wooo’ uwu. I'll eat them all.]

Giggling at the sight of what must be a meme has to be muffled, but happens. Shuichi then spends the rest of class talking with his boyfriend. Even the next few classes become that. Kokichi is just too addictive. A half day can't stand against him at all. Unfortunately, Shuichi doesn't fully lose his boner. He's very resilient to Kokichi's use of humor by now. Not that the other boy can ever know that memes can no longer kill boners. 

The risk is too high. 

There's a long delay when class is dismissed. Shuichi can't exactly get up just yet, and Kokichi has cleaning duty too. Meaning that staying just a little bit behind is fine. Unless the boy wants to expose himself while standing. Which is, well, definitely not what Shuichi plans on doing. He's just struggled through hours of school anyway. Sticking around is absolutely harmless. 

Being able to watch everyone leave while Kokichi sticks behind is nice. If only Shuichi could have cleaning duty today too. The two of them would be all alone. In their classroom. As the sun sets.

Kokichi's wide eyes looking up at him knowingly as an array of fire-like warm fills the sky behind them-

Shuichi sighs and takes one last look at his phone. Correspondence with Kokichi and thinking about him too. Like this, it's a disaster because of lacking self control. He's not even as bad as he used to be either. Then boy slowly adjusts his uniform and packs up his belongings. No homework for once. 

No interruptions for Shuichi's date with Kokichi. Which is the origin of all this too, the boy reminds himself. Going on a date to a place like this has stirred him up. He stands quietly and looks back at Kokichi, just as the other stragglers leave. Off to clubs or going home, or cram school, but all Shuichi can think about is the bored look that fills his boyfriend's face. Cleaning duty is sure to be nothing but a pain for the other boy. Getting talked over or past while someone barely acknowledges you…

Everyone knows that they're 'friends' now. It doesn't make sense for them to be left unpaired like this. Maybe it's just Shuichi’s twisted brain acting up. Turning everything into something strange again. 

Lips thin before Shuichi checks himself over again, and he huffs too, feet forcing themselves to march out the door. Both floor tile, entrance way wood, and the asphalt outside feel the same; utterly sour.

Hints of something like sighs and grunt fill his walk home. At least it's free of cat herds and other trouble. Shuichi finds himself walking at a snail's pace, hands fretting and fingers praying for a familiar alert. Yet, Kokichi doesn't send him anything. Not early on, not as Shuichi’s eyes spot his apartment building, and not when the boy enters his bedroom. He groans and collapses in bed so hard that it bounces. Wondering grimly, because what if someone made Kokichi sad, Shuichi turns onto his side. 

A small buzz makes the boy jump, hands fumbling towards pockets. 

[>NervousKimchi 

Save me. I'm dying. Someone left a fucking sandwich in here and it has mold. I need a sanitation hand gel shower.]

[>DumplingGore 

What about your bottle of it? Maybe not for a shower though! You might get cracked skin. Anyway, are you okay? That girl didn't make you clean everything yourself, right?]

[>NervousKimchi 

Ugh no, but she kept trying to connect with me over some mute DR character being her favorite. And then she texted her friends pictures of the Resident Sandwich of Evil. 

Don't worry about the sanitizer. I've basically used it all, had to slather a layer of it on all my stuff once we finally parted. For the love of all that is sacred, I'm just glad that it wasn't pancakes. Shit. I need to write up something about why Chihiro has the worst dad in the series. Something absurd and stupid, but written seriously, and maybe with a dozen studies linked. And NOTHING ABOUT GENDER because that's the Ultimate trolling. Not giving people what they want.]

A moment passes before another message pops up. 

[>NervousKimchi 

But I'm not going to do that. Probably just going to scrub my place... The guy doesn't deserve instant gratification vent writing like that. I'll save it for diehard shippers that stan who dicks who. I'll title the essay 'lube AND condoms'.]

Shuichi laughs the moment he reads the word shipper. It's an abrupt barking sound, with wheezing, and he starts to relax as Kokichi babbles via text. The sun slowly vanishes as time continues on. Fast, slow, but all Shuichi can do is smile. Even when he gets up to pic out tomorrow's clothing. The responses eventually grow sparse as Kokichi cleans though. Still, conversations about daily life and miscellaneous things like this always feel the same.

Like proof of closeness. 

No- it feels like Kokichi could walk in at any moment. As if the two of them are right next to one another. There really isn't anything better than that feeling. Shuichi’s heart tells him that, at least.

"Thinking like that is awkward," Shuichi murmurs, looking at his clothing with narrow eyes. It's so cold out that a scarf is necessary. Will wearing the one that Kokichi gifted him be good? There's no use, he always wears it, and so of course he's going to wear it on a date. Soft black fabric with gold pinstripes. Pale hands grab it gently and Shuichi rubs it against his face. This is a gift from Kokichi's own hands. He smiles, "Mmmm, Kokichi."

It's a fond kind of murmur-hum, but the feeling of the fabric is sublime. Exactly like Kokichi's smiles or his laughter. Kokichi himself had spent a really long time looking through that store. He'd gone straight to the sanitation wipes after exiting the mall too. 

Huh. 

Shuichi puts his only worthwhile scarf down and stares. The sky outside is completely dark now, and both of them are going to bed early for once too. Yet the question and hypothesis is grinding against his skull. His gross eyes flicker from his hands to Kirigiri's stoic gaze. The Original Ultimate Detective subtly eggs him on. Kirigiri isn't wrong, and Shuichi finds himself caving to her demands. Even though she isn't even really either. 

Kokichi shouldn't be upset about a question... 

[>DumplingGore 

Hey, Ouma-kun? Why do you always carry around that stuff?]

[>NervousKimchi 

Germs are gross if that's what you mean. Have you seen that guy in the rightmost bottom row desk? People in public too. So it just gets really ugh feeling, that's all. I'd feel better if I knew whether people washed their grubby mitts right.

And uh

When I first moved into this place there was just a lot of gross stuff. Really bad. Once in a while I get reminded about it and all. That's it.]

If there was a way to move Kokichi into this apartment, then Shuichi would do it. Less than a heartbeat and he just wants to suggest it. Shuichi’s parents only visit twice a year too. His uncle comes once every two months. There's no reason for him to hold back other than hesitation and feeling improper. Audacity is what he needs, that same bubbling thing that makes him overflow with words around Kokichi. Just like during their very first date. 

"Right... I just have to do it," the boy says as he types. "Kokichi is understanding! We've been together a long time. He's-" 

Kokichi is worth everything, he decides. Much more than Shuichi has ever been. 

[>DumplingGore 

If I can prove that I do stuff like wash my hands right, or brush my teeth, would you hold my hand more? Not that we have to! I've just noticed, and with thus it's a bit more something I can see. Like when I use my mouth wash and it's still strong you're more likely to kiss me? So that's just conjecture but I'm more than happy to meet Ouma-kuns needs! Hygiene is good.]

Hygiene is good. 

Hygiene is good? 

Shuichi drops his phone onto his pillow and crawls under his covers.

There is no larger fumble in all the history of fumbles. It's a fact of life now, Shuichi has fucked up worse than that one crossover game from two decades ago. Kokichi will text him with a break up message for not minding his own business. Being that rude is just horrifically embarrassing. Shuichi is going to be alone with only rp logs, regret, and memories of masturbating to the thought of Kokichi's body jolting as his fingernails get ripped off. 

Angrily ashamed, Shuichi glares down at his crotch as some minor stirring happens. He lays on his side without a single word though. If Kokichi finally responds then the boy will just ignore it. Except that Shuichi is incapable of ignoring anything about his boyfriend. He's constantly rereading old conversations to find out more about... 

Faint buzzing vibrates against Shuichi’s pillow case. 

Instantly, he grabs at the thing and nearly drops it. He's not even laying down anymore either. Sitting upright, and on his knees, Shuichi is staring intently at the screen of his phone. A long sigh if relief gets devoured by giggles. 

[>NervousKimchi 

Well. Yeah. Figured you'd notice sooner or later. Saihara-chan is too smart to hide from, huh. It's something that I try to work on, and I wasn't exactly hiding it... But it's not like I have anything like some official note for this, so I guess I got embarrassed. Pretty pathetic for someone that enjoys pissing people off so much? Maybe.]

Urges full of hysterical glee and protective needs to comfort battle as Shuichi reads further. 

[>NervousKimchi 

It's not like I dislike touching you though. The whole thing is kinda weird and odd but mostly pleasant, and I want to do it more. So we should try out your ideas. 

I want to hold Saihara-chan more.]

"Hold- ah, not even hands at all or anything he just, Kokichi just said hold!" Shuichi excitedly rambles as his lips part into a contorted leer, hands shaking from an impure joy. The phone half slips from his fingers. He can't even care about how improperly he's acting- saying that first name. It's not even a slip like he tries to pretend it is. More giggles of high pitch wheeze out of him, a hand slapping over his wide grin, "Kokichi wants to hold me! Kokichi wants to, Kokichi, Kokichi Kokichi Kokichi- Kokichi Kokichi Kokichi Kokichi..."

It feels like his face is on fire and like his eyes are foggy. Something near the front of his skull, where the center his forehead is, tingles as he retraces the words over and over and over again.

Of course his boyfriend would find touching weird too, after all- Shuichi is pretty sure that Kokichi barely gets touched at all. Maybe that's why he'll get all clingy sometimes and avoid otherwise. In addition to the adverse reactions to the idea of germs. The way that Shuichi reads it suggests that the later comes and goes. Which means that there wasn't ever a real problem between them at least. God, Shuichi is so happy that he could cry. But the relief is too mired in strange bursts of wonder for tears to happen. 

Shuichi quickly types up affirmations as steadily as possible. The beating of his heart won't calm at all. He can't breathe in a consistent rhythm and he keeps laughing. Kokichi wants to touch him more, Kokichi likes it when Shuichi talks about wanting him, and Shuichi’s mind strays to perfectly innocent selfies shared very rarely. Sexting is different from role playing as anyone at all. 

Would... Would Kokichi ever consider sending pictures that aren't innocent? Pictures of him wearing only that one hoodie, legs bare, and soft flesh on display? Just taunting Shuichi with how beautiful his pale skin would be with marks?

Bruises and bites and fingers painting swirls with blood along inner thighs. 

The boy is rock hard by the time both of them have logged off. If Kokichi gets reassured by knowing then they'll touch more. Sexual contact isn't too much of a stretch. Nor is it something that neither of them have done. Shuichi's ugly and greedy eyes have made a delightful game of sneaking peaks in the locker room. Kokichi's much more beautiful ones have too. All bright purple shining with mischievous acknowledgement that gets paired with an impish smile. 

Constricting sheets and heavy blankets shift as Shuichi’s hands reach down.

"It's going to be a long night," the boy sleepily murmurs. He muffles another round of laughter and imagines Kokichi lifting a little lavender skirt to reveal absolutely nothing underneath. Yeah... Definitely a long night.

From those locker room glances is the fact that Kokichi's cock is quite average. Estimates compiled from rare experiences and glimpses suggest that, at least. The other boy has surprisingly broad shoulders, but he's otherwise small. His neck is alluring whenever Shuichi gets to see it. Slices of pale skin hidden by uniform fabric always taunt him by peeking out. Kokichi's neck is doubly seductive due to silky hair. 

Which means that Shuichi would be absolutely stunned to see his boyfriend do something so lewd- to expose himself without a care. Kokichi would be so cute in that sort of outfit too. He'd probably be mistaken for a girl. Right up until they get back home and start doing what they can't in public. It brings to mind the idea of something riskier, like a bullet vibrator. Or Shuichi wearing a skirt as well. 

The boy shivers and rubs faint circles onto his tented boxers. Shuichi would never look good in something like that. But if Kokichi told him to, with one of those trickster grins, he would jump to do it. If Kokichi thinks that touching his dick is dirty then Shuichi will agree. There's no need to touch him like that, no, the boy would gladly do nothing more than grovel like an animal and get off from just looking.

Except that Kokichi wanting to touch him is a fact. A plain as day fact that Shuichi’s dick tells him isn't just for hands. Something like a foot job should at least be on the table. That first date alone should prove that Kokichi can very much... Reach down and... 

Grinning in Shuichi’s mind, a fantasy facsimile of Ouma Kokichi looks down at him and teasingly lifts his skirt higher. His pale fingers aren't even fully grasping the pastel fabric. Only index and thumb hold onto it, allowing the rest of the soft lavender to drape around him. 

Yes, Shuichi can absolutely see it. Maybe some black thigh highs too. Mocking smiles and the brush of clothed foot against cloth would ensue. Not even his erection that would twitch freely in the air. The boy thumbs at the elastic band of his underwear and decides that his arms should be tied behind him. Kokichi being in control is the best bet for no guilt. 

Shuichi fully gives into the urge. He rips down his boxers and quickly kicks them under the covers. There's no shame in doing this anymore. Kokichi has said as much while sexting. It's something that Shuichi can imagine him saying out loud. That quiet voice, sometimes so very faint from disuse, flowing into Shuichi's mind like seawater into a sinking ship. 

'I love knowing that you get off to me,' Ouma Kokichi viciously texted to him last week. 'Tell me exactly how often you do it. Tell me what you think about.'

Ah, that kind of thing is almost painful. One hand finally wraps around his blood engorged cock. It takes a split second to decide that Kokichi would eventually allow him to masturbate. He shouldn't be doing this under the covers though, but Shuichi can't even care. The only thing he can do is keep his eyes shut and imagine more. Precum beading as his fantasy continues, the Kokichi's smirk fading into something softer, words shifting and changing. There's a lot of things that would make him cum right away too. Just the imagery is driving him close. 

His hand starts pumping vigorously as the fantasy focuses on Kokichi's own erection. The boy grins and squats down to Shuichi’s height, legs spreading wider and showing off every part of him. Shuichi’s tongue licks at his lips and his free hand joins in- immediately fondling the glans of his dick. There's already so much precum making him sloppy.

Purple eyes glint with the strange kindness that Shuichi is in love with. That precarious feeling acceptance that he doesn't deserve, can't comprehend, doubts is at all real; the wholesome affection that he's addicted to.

There would be siren whispers as Kokichi leans forward. Just slightly, just enough for kitten kisses against Shuichi’s lips. Hands would wrap around wrists to put a final stop to uncontrollable masturbation. The boy would still try to get himself off though. It's instinct even outside of his mind. Everything about this fantasy is so perfect that his hips are starting to thrust. 

"Kokichi... Kokichi," he moans, freely and loudly. Shuichi’s hands move even faster, pumping and rubbing, almost violently. "Please let me cum! I just want to-" 

Kokichi asks him if that's all his Saihara-chan wants. It's a sudden and invasive twist to the lewd daydream. Full of the same energy as post rp cuddling and with none of the respectful hesitation. Kokichi murmurs his words with twisting tones, made of burning, 'You're such a good boy, Saihara-chan. Tell me what you really want as a reward.'

It's something that neither of them have quite said. A something that Shuichi tries to avoid. Just one topic that makes his throat close up. Running through his mind and plunging into cold water. The reason isn't because of pure possessiveness. Even if seeing his name there would be the height of fulfillment and ecstasy. 

"I want to cut into your thighs!" Shuichi blindly hisses. It's all he can see now, most of he can imagine the moment he confesses it. Absolutely sinful and disgusting, but people seem to do it just fine with none of his baggage. How horrible is he that Shuichi can't trust himself with something that he knows can be okay? 

He's looked at so many websites in the past few months. Should this one thing be possible then he wants it to be special.

"You'll look at them when I'm not there and remember me... But I don't want just that! I want Kokichi to look at them and smile for more than that, I want to carve all the things I love about Kokichi where he can see them forever," the boy babble-moans. Voice weaving in and out of pitch and cadence. Shuichi can see exactly how carefully he'd do it. How he'd steadily write love confessions into Kokichi's flesh. Like theblove poems that they secretly exchanged after class, both papers a matching one hundred. "I want Kokichi to scar me back! I just want both of us to happy, Kokichi..."

There's no desire to hide or worry leftover inside of his mind. Everything is wanton lust, clawing away at intelligent thought, making him writhe at the idea of blood mixing and Kokichi cumming as a blade parts pale skin. Shuichi bites at his blankets as fantasy Kokichi laughs and grabs his throat. He wants the other boy to yank their hands to that lewd stretch of inner leg. So it happens, but there's hotstickywet fluids and oh- oh-

Shuichi’s fingers don't trace along open wounds spelling out his name. They don't press into weeping cuts that permanently scream praise and love. But as his cock throbs and the tightness of his abdominal muscles intensify, it feels like it.

Orgasm hits him the same way love does after hearing Kokichi speak. Like rain drops full of delightful poison that sink into skin, curling within epidermis, making his brain short-circuit. Shuichi can't even breathe anymore. All that exists is the feeling of how obscene this is. Cumming to a fantasy that could be lived out in reality. Possibilities after so much research, practice, and build up that they could both recite how. 

Hot semen makes a mess of blankets and his still stroking fingers. It soaks into fabric and quickly sticks to everything. All he can do is wish some of it was blood. Feeling strange, Shuichi slowly milks the rest of his cum and brings his hands out from under ruined blankets. Covers shift and expose the mess as he does. Then he stares at his hands with half lidded eyes, wondering one thing, bringing those fingers to his mouth. 

If it were Kokichi's cum then Shuichi would lick it all up. 

The wait just makes it better, Shuichi decides as he sucks at bitter fluids. Being able to finally read about the things Kokichi tells him about does too. Learning just makes him feel less like a monster and more like someone that deserves to exist alongside Kokichi...

Kokichi should be kept safe and happy, that's what Shuichi knows. The other boy should be able to smile from top to bottom, inside and out, everyday of a long life. His own true feelings demand that of him, and Shuichi has no desire to disobey. No matter how long it takes. Shuichi wants to be able to do those things with his boyfriend. Both of them liking it and both of them knowing what to do for it to be okay. 

It's fine if a lot of things have to stay within the realm of words. That doesn't mean that they can't do other stuff or live those ideas in non-direct ways. Maybe... 

Maybe Shuichi can be a good person if he tries hard enough. Maybe he can squash each reoccurring doubt. Maybe being a freak doesn't have to mean that he's a monster too.

Gazing at hands covered in nothing but drying saliva makes Shuichi smile from ear to ear. He's just had a fantasy that didn't go farther than cutting Kokichi's beautiful skin. It wasn't even frenzied slashing either. This is something called self-control, right? A handful of proud thoughts like that dance inside of him. More smiling reveals teeth and makes his canines pinch at lips. Successful for once, the boy plugs in his phone and gently places it under his pillow. 

He goes to sleep feeling warm, fuzzy, and mostly guiltless. Knowing that tomorrow will be great.


	2. Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi tries to think that he has his life and mind in order. Shuichi makes this difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter that did not go any way other than how it wanted. Ffs please don't become a four parter.

There's a point in everyone's life in which they must acknowledge that life is not an unyielding shitstorm. Either they don't, stalling out, and let happiness lap them. Like a confused Mario Kart player starting to win for the first time. Or they take the chance to be happy by aggressively grabbing happiness dick first. 

Rephrasing all that, Ouma Kokichi is a lucky little bastard and he knows it.

The school year is almost over now. He's been dating Saihara Shuichi for maybe five months. Kokichi gets to actually turn sounds into words now. More than just talking to his feline friend too. For the first time, Kokichi has whispered into a reddened ear while soaking up human warmth. The contact can be weird and skin crawling while absolutely intoxicating. Basic comfort is like a drug. 

He hasn't felt this human in years. That's how it registers to him- being able to interact without a screen guarding his person. Shuichi is just like a fumbling little beacon. A fire that people end up immolated by, and with smiles to boot. 

At the same time, there's the fact that Kokichi can't stand it. Skin against skin is strange. Lips touching lips or more is gross. The idea of more is just awful in an abstract way. Except that all of those are also things that the boy craves. Kokichi wants to scream from the clash that comes and goes. Shuichi won't wait around forever, part of him says. The truth is that people expect things. 

Kokichi stares at his phone and rereads for the fifth hundred time. 

Shuichi’s idea of relationships must be very different, Kokichi muses, if he only offers to please the other party in exchange at most.

It should be nothing more than something for Kokichi to call a lie. Still, the boy can't find it in him to doubt. The chunks of him that melt from it are too strong. Writhing inside, giggling in his mind, Kokichi gets dressed as his brain itches to the idea; Saihara Shuichi understands him. No demanding at all. Just well natured offering paired with worry. He goes over the conversation a dozen times like that. Maybe Kokichi would find the hints of wrongness if it weren't Shuichi. 

 

Black socks glide up over feet and ankles. Kokichi can't find the falsehoods or the omissions. Black underwear slides up pale legs and snugly hides skin. He can only find sincerity after months of dating in addition to friendship. One of the shirts that Shuichi sends pictures of easily encompasses a lithe body. Purple eyes drift towards the hem line, and look to where it falls just below Kokichi's groin. 

Walking around like this in front of Shuichi... 

Nothing bad happens in times where they're like ‘this’ or ‘that’. Shuichi never pressures Kokichi the way that exposure to the worst of humanity says he should. Roleplaying things right next to one another, even knowing that they're both aroused, and Kokichi doesn't ever feel like-

"Fucking shut up inside your own head," Kokichi hisses before grabbing his pants. He's freshly showered and everything clean. The boy has done his predate rituals and more. Picking out the location- "Definitely this time. I'll get to tell my cat that I'm not a virgin! We're going to have sex and it's gonna be great!" 

But his stomach is fluttering. Everything is fluttering and twisting like snakes trying to auto-cannibalize. Kokichi buttons up plain black jeans, whining. He can't understand it at all. Shuichi is just different, the boy is too much, and he always has been. What will Kokichi do if they grow apart or something makes them stop seeing one another? Remaining like this isn't something that Kokichi has ever had before. He can't wrap his head around it. 

Saihara Shuichi has broken all of Ouma Kokichi's walls into rubble.

More are trying to remain and they're all trying to rebuild. It makes him want to scream. The idea fills him with the urge to vomit. How disturbingly ever present the knowledge is. So very surreal, as parts of him point out just how incompetent he's becoming. All of it from one fact too. 

He likes it. 

Kokichi doesn't want to go back.

Actually trying to go further without waiting for all the fears to disappear via a frenzy of emotions could break him. Kokichi's lips part as a wheezing laugh makes him shake. His prodigious lump of fluff that pretends to be a feline blinks at him, languid. The sight is calming even as buzzing emotions continue to infest his brain. Probably, sure, the quietly staring boy isn't the best person. 

Of course, Shuichi is the one maybe better regardless of his obsessive interests in the grotesque. There's no overwhelming need for spite in the other boy. 

You don't have to be the best to be good. 

Despite it all- Kokichi doesn't think that Shuichi wants to actually hurt people. Given any worth of the word and simplicity of meanings. Not because of hate, or a need for making people suffer or get angry just to keep living with some facsimile of pride. At least. 

Which is why Kokichi wants to be broken more, with Shuichi’s always wonder filled touch, by the person that smiles at him so leeringly and wobbly. The boy is both innocent and impure enough to invoke a strange comfort. Almost childish enthusiasm and the willingness to listen, each time. Shuichi never stops listening... 

There's nothing about those golden eyes so full of concern that speaks of abandonment to a falling apart shack full of twitching little housemates.

In other words, Kokichi trusts Shuichi to do anything. Because he won't do anything. Even though he could totally do anything. 

Kokichi looks at his purring cat and then glances over at the clock. He promptly decides to just stop thinking such pathetic thoughts. Too much time is being spent, even if he's nowhere near late due to waking up early. It takes around fifteen minutes for the boy to calm down and finish up. Preparation is the most important thing, always, and Kokichi generally enjoys the ritual. 

“Chanchan… hold the fort for me and make sure to be vigilant,” the boy hurriedly says as he rushes out the door, shivering at how cold it'll be outside. At least he has a good coat. “If you see anything then kill it!”

Black fabric gets rubbed down as Kokichi remembers the excited look on Shuichi’s face. Just thinking about it makes him feel spoiled rotten. Buy things for one another without a hint of judging. Fuzzy little things start fluttering as Kokichi quickly leaves his apartment. As he walks down gray residential area roads, stray cats acknowledging him, his beaten up phone in hand. 

Taking the bus would be much quicker than a walk. Busses are also more expensive, and Kokichi likes to clear his head. Less standing around while waiting too. Purple eyes glance from unused asphalt to various houses. Not another human being to be seen just yet. 

"Hhh... Hh-" the boy murmurs as both feet move on autopilot. "Hheey. Fhu!" 

A pale hand darts up to rub at clean skin, and Kokichi frowns as unease bubbles at his back. One of these days. He's absolutely going to give Shuichi a verbal greeting. Just not today, probably, but that's no reason to not try it out. Kokichi tugs at the collar of his jacket and gulps. Those fingers squirm down and pull the fabric around his neck away too. 

Feeling his throat get tight is awful- but the boy continues to try and whisper. Right up until he spots an older woman carrying a grocery bag. They glance at one another for a few seconds. With some recognition, Kokichi and the old lady look away just as fast. 

Looking down at the phone and pulling up his map app reveals that Kokichi is right on time. Early enough to get his plans in order. Honestly, it's the same plan every single time despite changes. Go on a date with Shuichi that results in at least one kiss and hand squeeze. Make sure that the seating location is private. Talk about things that are balanced between irl and online. Make allusions to the smut rps too, because Shuichi is actually super cute. Say at least one little word- because Shuichi’s smiles are more than worth it.

In last place: shit post like a motherfucker because craptastic and spiteful humor is around 50% of what Kokichi runs on. 

The boy turns a corner and finds himself making a beeline towards a fountain with benches nearby. Being in a better area is wonderful insofar as the lack of building decay. Yet, it comes with some obvious costs. Other humans are really loud and really not fond of giving people space when busy. Kokichi narrowly avoids a hung-over salary-man while inwardly grumbling about the useless elite. 

Everything here is newer looking. Glass is gleaming and there's no crumbling. Even the water in the fountain is nice looking. Maintenance fully kept up with, and by people who obviously don't want things falling apart. It's a strange thing to think about. Just twenty to forty minutes away is Kokichi's hovel.

Kokichi could make some stupid joke about it... But he sits on the rim of the fountain instead.

Something about the sound of rushing water is calming. Wide eyed rebellion aside, this isn't even some kind of dangerous act. The fountain and all the people around are just the same kind of people that would be cheap cgi in an anime. Kokichi would too, and there's some measure of comfort in that. No one walking around can look at him and know his issues. 

Anyone that decides to be a royal cunt is going to get screamed at by an angry text to voice function. 

Maybe. 

Exhaling, Kokichi turns his phone back on and opens a game up. Mindless distraction in the form of tap game play. He watches his monsters insta-kill the most powerful enemies in the game for all of a minute. The well drawn sprites are like an unstoppable horde. One finger easily resets the game all the way to the beginning. Any rewards get funneled into cosmetics instead of real bonuses. Nothing more or less than hard mode is acceptable, after all. 

People pass him by without a care as time moves forward. Alas, Kokichi's mind grows focused on something other than his game. Shuichi. His boyfriend, whose mere existence has shocked the Internet. That someone would date the kind of person that once made a long petition to have Teruteru and Hifumi become a canon ship is blasphemy. Which is exactly why Kokichi flaunts it. Posting, ‘I am going on a date and will have sex’ or ‘What is it like to know that you are jealous of me’. 

In less than an hour, Shuichi is going to watch Kokichi eat food made to appeal to them both. Though mostly to Shuichi’s likes in this context. The boy can't help but wonder what kind of face he'll earn. More of that wobbling smile-leer that's made of fragile joy. Excitement is always in there too. Kokichi's own lips twitch despite his attempts at resting bitch face. 

As far as the heart shaped pancakes go, that blood orange and strawberry compote/sauce isn't exactly a perfect replica. Kokichi isn't sure that a perfectly edible and realistic replica of raw organs, on pancakes, would sell well. But the look of them is more than enough. It'll definitely make Shuichi’s mind go crazy to see. 

Red sauce and red chunks of fruit all entering Kokichi's mouth. It's probably similar to a wet dream that his boyfriend has had before. Honestly, the boy might have rped something like that too. Not that he's in the right place to go looking or remembering cannibalism. The point is that Kokichi went to a lot of trouble to find the right restaurant. Around two hours cross referencing different reviews and blog posts. 

More people start milling about as time passes, but Kokichi keeps his head down.

"Ouma-kun! A-ah, I'm here on time," comes a familiar voice, paired with the sight of Shuichi slipping past the crowd in favor of the fountain. Which means Kokichi gets to have that small smile to himself. Gold eyes flutter slightly as eyes contact continues, Shuichi coughing behind a hand, "Should we go in now o-or... Ah?!" 

He wastes no time in spring up and sliding his phone into a pocket. Kokichi grabs the tiny bottle of hand sanitizer within, and yanks it out aggressively. There's a split second of self-conscious restraint. It gets popped off alongside the lid while Kokichi's other hand gestures for Shuichi to comply.

A flush grows on the other boy's face. Still, Shuichi obeys by sticking out his hands. That twinge of pink only gets worse as Kokichi near empties cool liquid onto pale hands. He doesn't quite get it himself- but maybe it's because of the slippery squelching noises that happen as their hands rub together. All Kokichi cares about is if this idea will work. 

Fingers twist together in a parody of washing and intertwining. It's almost satisfying for Kokichi to see happen. He glides his hands along thin yet sturdy wrists, rubs fingertips against cuticles, and massages the sanitizer into various other spaces. It feels like the other boy keeps good care of his hands. Soft skin and nails kept smooth, short. Shuichi’s thumbs get their own moments too. The other boy even starts to return some of the attention. 

Kokichi grumbles wordlessly as Shuichi’s longer fingers caress the back of his hands.

Eyes meet and Kokichi suddenly finds himself far too embarrassed to continue. He ignores the heat in his face before looking away. Silence and two hands clasping one another fill up the void left behind.

"I'll... I'll walk us over," Shuichi murmurs. 

It makes something inside of Kokichi's chest send nostalgic heat all around him. No one else can make him this kind of audacious. Only the boy gently pulling him back towards the crowd. Each time that he realizes it, Kokichi can feel those walls break a bit more. His innocence better be getting sullied soon. If Kokichi goes home from one more date or hangout without knowing what Shuichi’s dick looks like then he's going to scream.

While home, with his cat watching, and scaring the neighborhood. Again.

Fucking could have asked for dick pics, Kokichi slowly realizes. There's a second where his hand tightens around the other boy's own. Yet, Kokichi tries to think positive. Pictures wouldn't work as good anyway. Everyone knows how stupidly hard it is to get a good dick selfie. No one but an idiot would want their first ‘bf dick’ sighting to be ugly. 

Kokichi has gotten off to sexting way too much to see a poorly made picture. Yup, that's some perfect excuses. 

The crowd picks up as they navigate the sidewalk. While the café isn't far, it's a long enough walk for the mutual quiet to sink in. Fingers slowly lock together a little more with each step. His eyes dart at their hand every other second too. It's alright. Maybe it's even less uneasy feeling too, but Kokichi wasn't lying when he said that the aversion comes and goes. Even if the boy knows what it's like for the idea of touch to be off-putting... He can't say for sure that that's the case right now. This hand holding has only just started after all. 

But he squeezes his digits into Shuichi’s knuckles, smiling, and appreciates the lingering scent too. There's definitely something about knowing. Kokichi looks away from the things making his face prickle and scans for the café's sign. It should be just a little thing, right outside.

"There it is!" his boyfriend whispers as the hat on his head gets adjusted. It takes a few seconds for Kokichi to spot what he means. 

Sure enough, a bright pastel sign full of cutely round writing is dead ahead- covered in a mix of adorable and grotesque. Crying eyes being chased by a hungry anime girl, plush and vaguely sensual lips biting into heart shaped cookies, and silverware stabbing into animal mascots. All as disarming hearts help frame what would otherwise be crimes against humanity. The moe mascot girl stands in the upper most corner, proclaiming bi-weekly DR meetups. 

A scoff-laugh hisses out from Kokichi's throat. Even some of the pink on that sign is Danganronpa blood colored. It's definitely not trying to hide exactly what demographic it wants. Which is honestly perfect for Kokichi's plans. There's a reason why he picked this place. 

That Shuichi happens to know the owner is just a huge bonus.

"... Mm," Kokichi hums towards the other boy, smirking light-heartedly at Shuichi’s flush. Renewing itself just from a single noise. It makes him feel like he's flying as the two of them walk a little faster, soaking in the way their hands near squish together, and even the slight clamminess does nothing. "Hh-hmm."

It's pathetic to be this incapable of speech. But the silence burns less now. Talking even a little bit around Shuichi shouldn't be this gratifying, and yet Kokichi is latching on like a little parasite after all.

Giving Shuichi something in return is undeniably what I'm doing though, the boy reminds himself. There's one thing and then another, clearly, and this isn't the one that's bad. Saihara Shuichi is the type of perverted degenerate to start panting at the thought of Kokichi sucking his vital fluids out anyway.

Ouma Kokichi just so happens to be the type of perverted degenerate to really, really, not mind that idea either. Vampires might be cliche, but they're also time honored. The other boy probably likes the idea of getting all his blood sucked out too. Kokichi shrinks away from a particularly large and clearly egotistical asshole, frowning despite huddling into his boyfriend. They're maybe five feet away from the café and someone just cuts them off. What kind of jackass spikes their hair like that? 

Probably wants to look like a Yu-Gi-Oh character. 

Not that Kokichi can actually say that in a bad way though. Who doesn't want hair that looks like a sculpture?

The answer is most people.

Blinking, Kokichi stifles the urge to pull out his phone and drag that hairstyle into the dirt with the help of MS paint. The fact that Shuichi is giggling provides a great counterpoint. Eating delicious pancakes is way more important than a really weird aesthetic choice. As if that's all he'll be doing. 

Kokichi sniffs at Shuichi’s clothing and finds that it smells freshly washed. Black yet teal hair also carries the scent of familiar shampoo. Deciding to ride off the conversation last night, the boy assumes that everything about his boyfriend is clean. He moves in closer as an experiment and delights at how Shuichi’s breath hitches. This date is going to be the most exciting yet. 

The sight that welcomes them as both boys enter the is something that Kokichi has not enough words for. Looking at pictures and videos didn’t prepare him at all. It's a fluffy hit of acid. A crying unicorn is being hung from the ceiling. Rope and all, with paintings of winged eyeballs dotting the entrance. Various pastels make Kokichi think of the way his wardrobe is steadily evolving. 

Glazed eyes lock onto decor mimicking blood, bright pink drippings frozen in time, and their owner looks up at his companion. What he sees, despite self-awareness on irrationality, is something that Kokichi abruptly finds unacceptable. Even if he's similarly impressed. 

Shuichi looks absolutely enthralled. 

One hand digs around for familiarly cracked glass as Kokichi observes the otherwise empty café. Being able to see a favorite café like this must be nice. Freshly remodeled and letting you in hours early. Kokichi just can't help but get a little bit jealous. He wants... 

He wants those eyes on him instead.

A light rush of jealousy darts around and vanishes just as quickly. Purple eyes go back to colors reminiscent of candy as well. The boy watches a small cake carousel of mascot characters slowly start up, and he brings his phone out too. It's less cold in here, meaning that Kokichi can begin his machinations, but he has to figure out what exactly to say. Some lady in a costume directs them to a back corner. There's a small section of fun house mirror that separates it from the rest of the café. 

"It's been a while since you've shown up! How has school been?" asks the woman wearing what might be an attempt at Rococo fashion after being mutilated. Probably by one of the fanged macaroons on the walls.

Nervous mumbles trickle from Shuichi’s mouth. Eventually, "School has been alright I g-guess. It's ah, better now."

Their hands feel a bit sweaty now. Somehow, Kokichi is fine with that as he glances at the very real stitches sewn into the lady's neck. His response is a coy giggle behind white gloves stained with pink blood. The boy looks at purposefully torn and exposed petticoats for a moment longer. Pale fingers go back to typing, and end up declaring a small greeting in the same automated voice as always.

It takes ten seconds too long for the waitress to finally seat them. Apparently, Shuichi legitimately is besties with the owner. Or at least knows the guy from all the meet ups. Kokichi honestly doesn't care about that. He's more focused on the secluded, circular, and plush booth that they're headed towards. 

"Here you are," she says, placing down a menu covered in more of the same as her white wig bobs. "We have a new waitress that'll serve you. Her nickname is Z-chan! Since zombie girls are so popular right now." 

Throat buzzing, Kokichi quickly sits down and flips the menu open. Despite all the cutesy designs and colors- there's enough white and black for DR connection to be obvious. Gleaming black leather seats and a pure white table top points towards it. If nothing else then he can say that a café like this is perfect for the average hypocritical fan. Kokichi waits a moment before zeroing in on the pancakes he wants. 

A single finger and some loud tapping is all it takes for Shuichi's brain to get into gear. The waitress doesn't seem to mind Kokichi's rudeness either, merely confirming their matching orders.

Now there's something that Kokichi has to do before anything else happens. A very important and simple thing to do. 

He gets up and quickly makes sure to ignore how Shuichi’s expression is already red. Black fabric and black buttons rub against pale digits, and Kokichi starts to remove his coat. Because it was getting too hot can be a good excuse. Of course, the truth is that he wants to tease the other boy just a little. The coat slowly slides off of his body as two arms escape it. Kokichi huffs, folding it neatly, and puts the thing next to where he's sitting. 

Eyes glance over nonchalantly and quickly narrow as smug satisfaction rises up.

Kokichi smiles sweetly at Shuichi’s visage, impish excitement flaring, sleeves drooping as his left hand goes to fiddle with the choker around his neck. He's never worn one before and still isn't sure if he likes it. Earlier on when his throat got tight hadn't been much fun. Yet, watching those golden eyes widen as lips part is worth it. Shuichi is whining like a wounded animal too. The other boy covers his mouth before reaching for his hat. All the same, because Kokichi knows that the way he's playing with the chokers charm is hitting. 

Smiling innocently and looking curious, Kokichi tilts his head. Practice tells him that Shuichi should enjoy the way that black cloth shifts. Common sense screams that the fake eye being fondled by pale fingers is even more effective. 

"You're... You're doing this on purpose! Ouma-kun," Shuichi hisses with his voice low. His entire face is dyed crimson. Those barely hidden eyes can't look away either. 

Smooth glass stops getting fiddled with as two drinks are gently placed onto their table. Kokichi smirks openly as Shuichi gulps down freshly brewed coffee. That and at how his boyfriend's hat quickly got shoved over his lap.

A moment of silence passes as Shuichi’s eyes stay transfixed onto a fake lavender iris, and the heart-shaped pupil within. Pale fingers slowly and gently set their owner's phone onto the table. He types quickly enough for Shuichi to lower his coffee. But Kokichi can't resist bumping their feet together. It's like a need to prod and poke until the melting point. 

Watching the other boy act like some overly cliche anime schoolgirl is invigorating. Like reading a dozen badly draw web originals with reverse harem plots. Not that Kokichi has ever done that. 

[Looks like I found Saihara-chan's newest weak point! Whatever shall I do? Perhaps... I should target it? Stir up that cutely grotesque little kink brain of yours! Wow, sounds like fuuuuun.] is what Kokichi shows his boyfriend. The smile on his lips twists into a tiny grin. He tucks black-plum hair and continues, [I bet you wanted me to get one of those drinks with the eyeballs... Too bad =3=]

More and more red starts to spread as Shuichi squirms. Although it could be the way that Kokichi is trailing freed feet up the boy's legs. This is the first time that he's done something like this in a while. Honestly, the boy has no idea where his sudden bravery is coming from. Kokichi's voice shudders out from him in the form of barely there gasps, a mockery of laughter. Louder clacking happens when Shuichi’s coffee cup returns to the table. Gold eyes stare into purple with confusion and arousal filling them up. 

Maybe it's because no one else is in the café. 

Maybe it's because of all the attempts making desperation build up. 

Anxiety nibbles away as Kokichi's feet snapback and slip back inside of his shoes. His hands nonchalantly grab at his own black coffee. Not exactly something that he used to drink- but the boy can handle bitter bean juice now. Shuichi’s hands eventually fall to his side, having hovered around, and not once does he look away from Kokichi's person. The only thing that those fully revealed eyes can register is him.

Kokichi tries to ignore the heat washing over him. But it's in vain, and all he can do is stare right back. The other boy looks like he wants to repeat their first date by pouncing over the table. As if Shuichi is some kind of cat that's dumber than Chanchan. If they were really the only two people here…

Ah. That surreal urge to rush and just do literally anything is back. He grins and shifts in his seat. The grey-purple gradient of his sweater wrinkles as Kokichi stretches, and the little knife wielding rabbit on the front crinkles too. 

"Ouma-kun is kind of mean, teasing me like that w-where anyone could see. Why..." Shuichi shudders and wipes at his mouth.

His fingers dart to reply with, [You're already the kind of person that'll really like what watching me eat sticky red stuff, aren't you? Why shouldn't I tease my wonderful Shumai?! Honestly, I'm the meanest person to exist. Total awful.] 

Buzzing jealousy flares up as Shuichi’s eyes read the message, and Kokichi deletes it in order to write more. 

[I picked this place for a reason. Didn't you figure it out by now? Being able to touch Shuichi is important for me. Getting Shuichi worked up until he's begging.] and Kokichi helps himself to seeing those eyes fly into a frenzy. Shuichi’s expression is like a starved animal finally seeing food. [Saihara-chan is] 

“A-Again!” the other boy blurts out, breathing heavy, his lips contorting into the kind of lewd sneer that Kokichi associates with rping an intense gore scene. Shuichi laughs just as abruptly as he rubs his chin. The cowlick on his head sways as he shivers, “Please type my first name again. Ouma-kun can call me anything, ever, but please do that just one more time. I'll do anything. He's right too- you're right. Just.”

The boy's own lips quiver as he types, fingers fumbling. 

[Text me what you've been thinking about first.] is the only thing that Shuichi needs to see before his own phone gets yanked out. 

It doesn't take very long until Shuichi’s whimpers start up again. Not with renewed audacity driving Kokichi to once more nudge at his boyfriend's body. Gently running clothed toes up from underneath at pant leg. Kokichi licks his lips and pulls down the collar of his shirt. His fingers glance the surface of the eye again.

[I've been thinking about how you're going to 

I mean it does but doesn't even look like it? The topping, it's not really but it'll look like it enough that I can pretend! Seeing Ouma-kun bite into juicy slices of deep bright red fruit. You eat so neatly too. But sometimes things stick to the corners of your lips, and you lick them away cutely with the tip of your tongue.

Seeing that would be...] 

But that's not what Kokichi wants to know. The irritated grunt he makes says as much. Shuichi’s eyes dart around the café as the foot teasing him settles on his knee. Everything about the situation is getting more intense. Wild- ramping up into an almost dangerous kind of feeling.

Shuichi’s hands twitch as eye contact continues. A hint of something like shame makes him slump, but there's no time to address it. Kokichi doesn't so much as move due to both anticipation and worry. The other boy gulps and soon sets his phone down. Ears red too, Shuichi murmurs, "Meat. The idea of Ouma-kun's teeth and lips biting into raw meat. If it... I-if it were... Mine."

"Thinking about that sort of thing, ah, that's. S-sorry. Just couldn't stop thinking about it. Not like that at first! But Ouma-kun wearing that an-and doing that," the boy continues to babble, "I-" 

"Have thoughts like that about you... Is- is that bad? I'd n-never ever... But."

The two of them stare at one another for what feels like a lifetime. Of course, Kokichi already knew that Shuichi must think like that about him. It's not exactly something that he's blind to. Knowing someone like this for a year or so tends to be illuminating. Dating someone, quite intimately, while almost constantly getting it on via words; makes it somewhat hard to avoid knowing. So it's not like Kokichi is shocked or even disgusted. 

Yet, he's not sure that his boyfriend understands that. 

Purple eyes blink and turn downward to stare at a cracked cell phone. Whenever this thing comes up there's an undeniable feeling. That Shuichi doesn't fully get how Kokichi thinks. Probably at least half the boy's own fault. He's the one that gets off on posting huge essays about absolute bullshit as if he's proclaiming an important thesis. Kokichi isn't all that clear at times, doesn't explain things half as well as he does fuck around.

Softly, gently, Kokichi turns his phone back on and types. 

[What kind of idiot are you to not get it yet?] 

Shuichi chokes but there's no way that Kokichi going to let him speak yet. Not when he's getting a little bit annoyed. 

[Do you think that I, the biggest cystic troll to grace the asshole of the Danganronpa fandom, wouldn't at least slightly consider that you're a latent serial killer that earnestly wants to turn me into soup?]

"Ouma-kun?!" the detective enthusiast gasps, mouth frozen after the last sound.

[No no no, we're not going Ouma-kun here. I have done so much shit and thought of so much more shit. You know that I'm a paranoid fuck riding on anomaly tier kindness in a country that runs on bullying other unlucky sods as pathetic as me. My brain thrives on pessimistic bullshit and I laugh at each death threat my blog gets whenever I insult half baked dead waifus. 

So in what fucking reality would I not consider the possibility that you might genuinely be fucked up enough to murder me? One that doesn't exist.]

Oh God, please don't let my boyfriend cry because of my dick fingers, Kokichi mentally pleads. He scrambles to keep going and wonders where his usual typing speed has gone, [Each little possible event was taken into account long before we told one another where we lived. Genuinely, I think that you're too much of a squishy hearted motherfucker to actually attempt murder.]

"Y-you... Ouma-k-ku-," Shuichi slowly stutters, eyes glittering. He mouths Kokichi's last message as he reads it, 'Stop thinking that I'm scared of you you big gore wanking nerd'.

"Minnlohvwi’ you," is the pathetic excuse for a voice that Kokichi forces to exist. "Shup." 

His boyfriend's right hand launches to grab the left hand across from it, and Kokichi can't even get on edge about anything at all. 

The whole thing makes him shift, legs locked together with Shuichi’s in a far less sexual way than before. All the gross fluttering things from before are back. His heart is beating like an abused drum too. Even his ears and face are betraying him. It must be-

No, the reasons don't matter and he even just talked a bit.

Kokichi feels like he's going to cry and melt all at once. Not exactly an unfamiliar feeling when around the other boy. Maybe they should try to kiss. There's two bottles of travel sized antiseptic mouthwash in his coat pockets. Toothbrushes with dry toothpaste on the bristles too. All the reviews said that the bathrooms here are extremely clean when compared to peers. Wait no, what is Kokichi's brain doing- sane people don't make out in restrooms.

That shit is for doujinshi where germs don't exist.

Exhaling to a steady rhythm, both of them cling just a little bit more. There's nothing wrong with taking a breather. 

"Don't you think that it's wrong though? Because Ouma-kun is always s-saying... I don't even know," Shuichi slowly says, words a collection of thought more than planned sentences. His eyes settle on their hands instead of anything else. "I keep replaying what Ouma-kun says, but they get muddled up. Even though I want to understand you more than anyone else ever could. And when I could ask all I do is avoid it."

Those gold eyes, still watery from emotion, dart back up towards Kokichi's face. It takes a good handful of moments for either of them to do anything. An itch builds up inside of Kokichi's chest, and he has no idea what it is. Could it be something like fear or dread? Or is the boy just happy to finally be able to say things clearly? It might be all of those things. This might be the first time he's even put all of it into words. Definitely, Kokichi has had to think about things in different ways than ever before. So…

False starts from one shaking hand aside, the boy's right hand does a good if slow job of typing. He puts his volume on low and then copypastes his declaration into the app with text to voice. There's a lot of things to unpack. So much thinking that Kokichi has had to redo in the past year. A bunch of things that he's never considered before, in relation and retrospect. 

"It's not real people getting murdered or real bodies anymore, okay. You're still getting off to stuff like entrails and that's not changed," the dull toned female voice says, Kokichi's words being nonchalantly read by an emotionless program. 

Kokichi swallows despite how dry his mouth is and continues typing up a storm. 

"There's nothing in the world that can change that, Saihara-chan. It is what it is. Removing the most obvious human suffering doesn't mean that you've magically made your fap materials totally different. The only way for us to do that is stop and enforce banning it until you like it less. But I don't see the point in it. It's a level down from the previous amount of fucked, though it's still what it is, and all I can say is that I hate hypocrisy. At least for me, that's how I see it and can make it all work in my head. There are things that aren't just impossible, things that are horrible and should never happen. To say otherwise or stick your fingers in your ears while crying 'fiction' is dishonest. I hate liars."

"But Saihara-chan isn't a liar to me."

"Even though you looked at that kind of stuff and still think about it with me... I don't understand it but I can't find myself really disliking you for it. In the end, the biggest hypocrite is always me."

And it's not even a lie. Kokichi is always going to be the biggest hypocrite that he knows. Who else would consistently do what he does? He can't find the energy to make up reasoning for why he's not doing anything bad. So instead he makes up reasoning for why quarantining himself is the best option. There's no excuses, even though he could make up a dozen, because Kokichi has had a mostly normal if neglecting childhood. A big event didn't catapult him into the lethargic sense of apathy he has towards most things. 

He's simply drifted forward while powered by resentment for any and everyone. Nuances aren't things that matter in the long run. People shouldn't be going around and acting like they're better, that's his subconscious logic. Kokichi still doesn't even think that his conclusions are wrong. 

But he doesn't want Shuichi to get upset. 

Emotions are weird and Kokichi really misses his wall of fragile teen apathy.

More silence swallows them both up as Kokichi's phone goes black. It seems like Shuichi is slowly digesting those words. The other boy doesn't look angry though. No, as both hands converge to Kokichi's own, Shuichi looks mournful but far more relieved. As if he's finally getting his personal thoughts in order. Kokichi wants to say more though. The boy doesn't expect his worldview to be followed like an ideology.

Why does Shuichi have to be the person to make him get like this? How can just one human being make Kokichi feel this way? It's so much easier when all he has to do is feel different intensities of loathing.

“Ouma-kun… I'm really happy that I met you. More than anything else, I don't think that you understand how much I care about you. I'm in love with you too,” Shuichi says as his lips form a soft smile. He rubs at the pale skin of Kokichi's hands. 

It feels like Kokichi's mind is melting. Just one instant and the boy has already decided that nothing will ever ruin this. A single speck of a moment within the meaningless drivel that life ultimately is, and Kokichi doesn't think that anything will top how hearing that feels. Too much. Saihara Shuichi is unfairly too much, too powerful, he may as well have just revealed that he's the big bad of this season's shitty merchandise driven children's anime.

Kokichi fucking loves shitty merchandise driven children's anime. He's 99% sure that he's in love with Shuichi too.

The scent of food slowly drifts towards them, and the two boys awkwardly part in favor of ignoring any sort of tears. Definitely because there are no wet eyes to be seen here. Nope, neither of them are drunk on what might count as catharsis. Kokichi is utterly stoic.

“Hi~niku, it's Z-cha… n.”

Purple eyes take in the way that Shuichi’s entire body pales into a marble statue, before Kokichi turns his head and stares just below the eyes of Akamatsu Kaede. 

And all he can see is a well aged loathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WILL TIE UP EACH LOOSE END 
> 
> Hvihv 
> 
> I said it before or just about, but both Shuichi and Kokichi here are kind of like... A collection of thoughts that I see around and twirled together when it comes to this greater topic. 
> 
> For Shuichi, Kokichi is this paradoxical figure. One that simultaneously serves to enable Shuichi and also cause some manner of growth by providing a steady and consistent motivation to both change and accept the self. But at some points, many points, Shuichi warps what Kokichi says via memory and his own issues messing with perception. He's having problems with connecting the ideal that Kokichi can represent with the actual person. But he's highly aware of that now. 
> 
> While Kokichi himself has a shockingly black and white worldview when you get down to it. He acknowledges that nuances exist but also doesn't think that they change reality enough to matter in the long run. In the end he's a very negative person that is simply too emotionally exhausted to try, until recently. This is partly to reflect his veiws on killing in the game and to provide Shuichi with some kind of opposition that sparks change. Shuichi himself does the same.


	3. Consumation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than nine thousand words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M TYING UP THE ENDS I SWEAR
> 
> Also... 
> 
> U know who u are and I'm big thankful qwq

Of all the moments where Shuichi is ripped away from feeling happy and accomplished, the worst ones always involve Akamatsu Keade. 

Which means that they're all his fault.

Shuichi stares up at livid pink-purple eyes and tries to shrink back into his seat. In this handful of seconds it feels like there's nothing but them. Just them, him and her, full of age old disgust and hatred. Akamatsu makes no move beyond near dropping plates onto the table. She trembles- anger filling up her body with barely constrained energy. The fear coursing through Shuichi’s veins won't let him look away.

Thus his jaw opens and closes, mere twitches, like a dull painted puppet undergoing death throes. 

"I thought you said you were getting better, you sick freak," she hisses, eyes glittering with the wrong kind of purple. "But no. You were screwing around the whole time and dragged Ouma-kun into it too! Wasn't the first time enough?"

His heart is beating like a jackhammer into flesh. It's everything that Shuichi can do to force his eyes away from that itching glare- locking onto Kokichi's stupefied expression instead. A glance of richly crimson and thick pancakes is caught. The colors and shapes make Shuichi's stomach twist. Suddenly, nothing about anything is good. 

"That's not... T-that is, isn't wh-why we're," but the words are gasps for air as Akamatsu laughs, while his vision becomes a narrow tunnel, "Here."

Not looking like herself, yet still obviously the Akamatsu that Shuichi grew up friends with, the girl grimaces at him like he's a squashed worm. Mudstain eyes glance away again and catch Kokichi's mouth opening as the other boy starts to bristle up like a scared cat. The laughter sounds like gravestones grinding together.

Exhaling and breathing. Her hands must be curling into white knuckle fists. Shuichi can't help but wonder if she's going to punch him like back then, and squeezes his eyes shut as Akamatsu speaks, "Why do I have to put up with a vulture like you? Why do you to make every effort to corrupt everything near you?!"

"It was bad enough that I ended up having to fucking work in an place like this-"

The familiar sounds of Kokichi's fingers make Shuichi’s own hands hover around his ears, eyes blinking open as a ball of spikes tears the flesh below his ribcage. Stabbing at the boy's heart and crushing bone. But whatever Kokichi is trying to say is left unseen. 

Like this, Shuichi has always been useless.

Shuichi flinches back as two hands covered in fake stitches slam into the table. She's angry, but he can't ever blame her for the reasons why. But parts of him are screaming that he's getting better. He never even meant for it to happen. The boy has never wanted to be like this. It's something that Shuichi can't explain to her. 

He's the only still alive person that she can live with blaming, and he can't prevent himself from accepting it in the end.

No suit case exists that can be filled with these feelings- there's no foggy lake big enough for Shuichi to imagine his mashed up guts drowning in.

"We walked in to see my sister hanging, and all he took away from it was 'dying is hot'!" Akamatsu snarls, voice raising from scathing dryness into a shout. Echoing around the café and making Shuichi’s heart stop. 

"I bet you get off on the things she talked about in her suicide note too, don't you?! Why did you have to become like that?" the girl yells at him, blonde hair caked with fake blood, her own eyes full of berserk resentment and feral panic. 

Tears sting at Shuichi’s disgusting eyes for reasons unlike anything similar to happiness. Bile rises in his throat at the mere concept. Everything being everything means he can't expect much, but his breathing stops. He feels dizzy, like his body is crumbling, looking between the two people in front of him. The words choke out of him like a high pitched flood, "No! No, n-no... I'd never ever do that or anything like that, I'm not like that, it's not like that, I never-" 

But his stream of unruined words breaks when his vision spins out of control. All he can do is slap both hands up towards his face. Shuichi needs to wake up. This can't possibly be real, the boy tries to mutter. Oxygen and lip movement is all he manages.

I'd never do that to her, I'd never do that to Kaede, why would you say that; but all he can do is drown underwater while the sister that stole the other's name pulls him under like a gnawing riptide.

He's dying. He must be dying. He's really going to die now. 

Kokichi is going to think that he's despicable. Kokichi isn't going to listen. Kokichi is going to leave just like Kaede did. Akamatsu never listened, Shuichi doesn't even think that she has to, and so why would he try to make Kokichi? No- no he doesn't-

Doesn't want to think like this-

"Go bitch about your dead twin somewhere else," rushes the automatic voice that Shuichi associates with anything from cat facts to intimate words. "We're leaving and I hate you!" 

Burning eyes stare down at a pure white table as Shuichi’s upper body stops tilting. His head bobs uncertainly as snot clogs his nose and throat, eyelids swelling as tear coated eyelashes flutter, staring past parted fingers. There's a third person making things move. All Shuichi can comprehend is Kokichi dragging him away. Up from his seat by the hand, and it makes him cringe because his hand must be vile. 

Even if he's getting better and even if the other boy's hand is clinging to him. Shuichi will never…

Shuichi is never going to forgive himself for ignoring the way that Kaede spoke about the art of suicides that he showed her. He's never going to forget that note. There's no way that he'll ever forget the way that all that art lies via omission, nor how the underdeveloped bones of an eleven year old can't stand up against gravity and a well made noose. The smell when they opened the door and the way the piano looked so unassuming. 

There's a chair below him and a table in front of him- but familiar shaking hands are gently pushing him. Up until Shuichi’s head in between his legs. Kokichi's hands rub into his back as the sound of blood rushing combines with a chair scooting across the floor. Shuichi gags at the memory of how fragile Kokichi can look in the locker room.

"Shhhnot like that," someone slurs to his knees. "Before, afhter, never once..."

It's true that Dangan Ronpa has always been an interesting thing to him. So, similarly, Shuichi can say that his 'interests' in relation to 'that' aren't 'like that'. Akamatsu has never been able to listen. Frustrating and yet- he has never fully experienced the will to hate her 

His breathing gets faster and faster as the sobbing becomes uncontrollable. Again, his words fade into huffs of exertion. Maybe he'll trade his voice away so that Kokichi can speak instead. The other boy is the one that deserves it. Black and white tiles shine up at Shuichi’s wavering vision as thoughts invade. Really, honestly, he deserves this cold hot feeling of being out of his mind. Shuichi deserves to remember that the picture in Akamatsu's locket has been cut to remove him. 

Nothing else can make the blank expression from that funeral and the dead one from the last day she went over his house... More his fault. Less purposeless. Something that has a reason. 

When Shuichi can say that it's his fault, when he can hate himself and let Akamatsu despise him, then he can sometimes remember those days of listening to piano as something undirtied. The idea of accepting how helpless children are is factual and neither of them could do it. Even though neither of them are accountable. It's a clarity that never stays long.

"I hate you. I hate you," Shuichi breathes, eyes wide while he talks to an amalgamation of faces and memories. He's not sure if it's himself or not. 

Dig them out and just pretend it never happened. Make sure you can never see it ever again. Pray to God that you don't have to remember that it must have been you, to plant the idea in her head, but Shuichi knows that it's never one spark that sets off a fire. When the person with most of the blame is dead though, ah. Shuichi can remember the happiness from seeing it on the news. He'd still thought that it was his responsibility. 

He'd lasted a month before wanting to try it. 

Try. 

Why can't he stop thinking like that. One way or another, apologize to her and-

She told him to stay alive and rot instead of being a coward, after seeing the pictures he left open. For Akamatsu, the sister she loves and envied has been killed by him in a way. That's right...

Arms wrap around Shuichi’s body. Someone's head rests on him. Gross eyes blink again and Shuichi feels snot drip down his lips. The boy can still breath in more steadily. Kokichi, miraculously, isn't gone yet. Kokichi is still here, shuddering and humming into Shuichi's huddled up body. 

No one had noticed, he almost says, but that person made me uncomfortable. Shuichi wheezes, "Didn't. If I said something. Kaede-" 

There is nothing in this world that you can expect children to do, but the boy can't make himself believe the kind rationality of whoever said that. Parents are just as vulnerable to such things, and as Kokichi holds tighter- Shuichi can still recall the tight expression on the woman's face. Even the scent of chamomile tea while his own parents sit on both sides. He wonders vacantly about what that therapist might be doing now. 

"I hate… You," the boy repeats a wheezing voice, finding that some part of his throat is becoming a void. Shuichi mouth moves again, silent, bare of anything functional. It seems that the two of them are sitting. Good, because it's suddenly impossible for Shuichi to move his legs. 

Maybe Akamatsu will be fired or maybe Shuichi will be exposed more. Either option is one he finds understandable. Because, because- 

His face falls into a bed of soft hair, smelling of peaceful herbs and and feeling soft, and Kokichi holds him tighter. It's then that Shuichi’s ears start to work more straightforwardly. The feeling must be awful and the boy must be unsightly, but the off-kilter numbness gives way. Shuichi’s mudwater eyes squeeze shut while he cries into Kokichi's hair. 

Could it be that Kokichi isn't going to leave. Perhaps he wants to hear my side of this. Maybe he thinks of me as far to pathetic. Kokichi might not belive a word she said. 

Of all the things Shuichi considers… his biggest hope is that Kokichi will at least keep hugging him. Nothing else feels real at all. Shuichi’s only grip on the sensation of 'existing in reality' is this. These small and thin arms that are nevertheless wrapped in layers of both soft fat and firm muscles, which Shuichi has both horrid and wholesome fantasies about, holding; Kokichi's pulse and his breathing and his warmth. 

What is he supposed to do, Shuichi wonders. Everything is floating even as he himself is sinking. All he can hear is the shivering voice of Kokichi. One that makes no words and says nothing. His comfort is in body and airy murmurs, indistinct while they sit in the alley behind the cafe. 

They love cafes. 

Almost all their dates are at different cafes. 

Irrational thoughts. 

Shuichi can remember the piano instructor looking at them and knowing. Knowing that they knew. It is still the worst thing that Shuichi has ever experienced, that look and that acknowledgement, to see the reason for death and know that it is a person. Reality is not like a show one loves, and the people in it are not characters with stories to tell. Their stares full of humanity born malevolence are not interesting, but terrifying.

Or righteous.

An artificial voice reaches out, "We can't stay here."

Muddy eyes open as Kokichi gently rubs Shuichi’s head, and shame bursts open. He's been so consumed by useless thinking that he cried onto Kokichi's hair. For a moment the two boys meet eyes. The worry and thoughtfulness hurts too much though, so Shuichi looks down at their legs instead. 

There's never going to be a way for him to forget how her legs were motionless in the air.

Kokichi's free hand is shaking as it holds a familiar phone, one with a plain matte black case, thumb hovering at the keyboard. There's another message in just seconds. Sae gave us bus fare. It takes a minute to remember that Sae is the name of the manager, and Shuichi has known her for a while now. Blinking feels like time is passing. 

"Can you stand? You collapsed after trying to walk out of the break room."

He can't remember that at all. There might have been something like it, but, "M'sorry. I'm r-really sorry, Ouma-kun. Do… you. D-do you hate me?"

It's possible that Kokichi should hate him now. Just like Akamatsu does, because Kokichi has all the information he needs to change whatever verdict he just gave. Shuichi’s heart is already rending itself apart. That way he'll feel less pain in the end. Yes, because it's definitely his fault. Even when he makes snide comments to make her go away, even when he hates how she uses that name, even if Shuichi tries not to acknowledge it- he's wrong. All this shaking is wrong and all of his panic is wrong. 

Definitely, the boy is definitely wrong more than anyone else. Right now is definitely when he's the worst possible person. Definitely, definitely, always and absolutely that's definitely just how it is in the end. 

Thinking that way will make him less bitter, despite the fact that Shuichi can already just barely breathe.

"You don't seem to have done what she said. I'm not going to hate you until I learn more," Kokichi has his phone say, the voice nonchalant and factual, his expression tight. As if he's ripping off a bandaid and turning Shuichi’s apprehension into a placid shield. Then, slowly the boy types, [I don't want to hate Saihara-chan. So I won't lie, when you're ready to tell me more then my thoughts will change. I just can't imagine it'll be because I hate you.]

Tight, like Shuichi’s throat and his withering voice, "But. But-" 

[I don't want to hurt you though. Something like what Akamatsu talked about means we could just be hurting you, with the stuff we do. Even though you liked it before whatever happened]

Shuichi’s eyes which burn and itch start to leak again. There's no way that that's all, there's no way that Kokichi could possibly be saying that he cares like that. 

[Because I'm piece of shit that selectively cares about people, and I'm nasty and disgusting, it's because I'm actually just trash… The anger. My humor and my likes and even what I wear. I feel empty, often, even though I don't acknowledge it. I'm preformative!] as the phone screen is placed into Shuichi's hands, he reads, [I'm a hypocrite because I only apply certain things selectively at times. Do you understand?] 

"No…"

Kokichi huffs with wet sniffles, to which Shuichi finally notices just how glassy those purple eyes are. 

[I love you.]

"You're good person," Shuichi eventually murmurs in response, feeling defeated. It isn't rare or odd for them to say that phrase. They mean it too, even when Kokichi relies on more humorous methods like 'love ya'. But it's still true that the other boy has never said it outright. 

And all Shuichi can do in the face of those words is say that. He continues to stare down at the bright screen, his body flopping against the bricks behind him. The alley smells a bit off. Distant eyes blink slowly while Shuichi’s neck begins to ache. Now, the boy isn't even sure if he's still crying. 

Kokichi swiftly wipes as his own eyes and frowns. It's a strange kind of glint that overtakes his gaze. Something akin to what Shuichi thinks is understanding. Then he takes his phone into both hands, thumbs rapidly dancing away, and shows Shuichi something that makes his brain halt. 

[Each date I make sure to totally prep for anal because I'm a fucking idiot. A fuck idiot. Fucdiot. You daft split pea of flaccidity, say it back or I'm never doing another enema ever again.]

Choking from his own inhalation going wrong, "E-eneemma?! Weh? Ah, but... I definitely l-love you too." 

The phone slips down into a pant pocket. Kokichi gently claps his pale hands together with a dry smile. He stands slowly, brushing off his clothing and looks around with a glare. Shuichi watches his boyfriend, boyfriend, without even blinking for a second. At each twitch of lips and then half exaggerated shudder, Shuichi watches. Muddy eyes close as weak relief fills the boy. 

He finds himself gasping for air once their hands meet. It's all because Kokichi wastes no time in helping him up, and then hugging him in a vice grip. That eyeball charm presses into their flush-together chests. Moments pass before Shuichi can return the embrace properly. Everything that has happened today is already a blur, but he hopes that this at least will be remembered clearly. 

Getting to hug someone like this is a blessing, the boy decides. 

If Kokichi asked then Shuichi might be willing to do anything at all, definitely anything. That's just how he feels now. 

Both of them end up on the bus back to Shuichi’s home. Tensely, but at least Shuichi’s parents are off on another business trip. Watching people sit and stand as normal is surreal though. Shuichi himself is stuck between zoning out and trying to contain it all. Akamatsu, the cafe, and then Kokichi held him…

Sighing, Shuichi manages to look away from the bus floor. His eyes drift over towards Kokichi's bowed head. They gaze at strands of hair, shining a deep plum, and idly Shuichi acknowledges how soft that hair is. It's a gross pondering that happens then. A what if of weaving Kokichi's hair into a bracelet. But that's not what a good luck charm is, and the boy probably shouldn't find such things romantic. 

Moments pass as the absurdity melts away. 

At least it wasn't Valentines chocolates with blood in them again. Shuichi has enough weird fap fuel, he doesn't need things like that- ones that are maybe possible and really stalkery. 

Isn't it possible to get iron poisoning from consuming human blood, he wonders. 

"Brain broke," Shuichi mutters, realizing that he has a hand which is holding another hand. His sweaty hand is clasping Kokichi's own. It must feel gross for the other boy. Even if Kokichi smiles up at him and said he doesn't hate Shuichi. 

They get off the bus as one singular blob, with other people, squished by surrounding bystanders. An office worker groans politely, her hand covering her mouth as she yawns. She apologizes lowly yet sincerely before walking past them. Kokichi growls under his breath and huddle into Shuichi's ribs. It's just like that now- because time has passed even if he can't remember it. 

Sore and itchy eyes squint up at a building covered in gleaming glass. The boys walk in, and Kokichi is nearly bristling the second the doors slide open. Even the elevator ride up can't make him relax. Maybe it's because Shuichi still can't walk quite right. Kokichi has been half carrying him due to that. 

Kokichi doesn't seem embarrassing by it though. His eyes keep darting around and barely widen once they reach Shuichi’s apartment. 

No one else actually lives with me, Shuichi can recall saying almost two years ago now. It's still the most truthful way to explain it. His parents are never really home even when they're here. Currently, the only two humans in the place will be Shuichi and Kokichi. Pet fish that Shuichi watches swim while eating meals don't count. 

All of them are named after Dangan Ronpa characters though. 

"I'm home…" Shuichi quietly states, sitting down in the entrance way as if a sack of rocks. It feels weird to not say 'Komaeda-san'. "Ah, t-those are my goldfish. The white one is Komaeda. Please laugh."

Purple eyes dart towards Shuichi and then to the one particular goldfish, which makes faces at them. Shuichi becomes conflicted in an instant. He should get up, and feed them, instead of languishing in the aftermath of one of those- those compulsory crying events. 

"Laughing isn't necessary. Even if your tastes in names is suspect. Your Kofish is handling the laughs by going, globgubglobygbgbglub," the other boy ends up typing, and smirks as the mess of words is read off. 

He should be embarrassed by both that and everything else that happens afterwards. About the instant ramen they eat for dinner, at twelve am. Or the way they end up washing and bathing at almost the same time. Kokichi doting on him, drying Shuichi’s hair and helping him pat himself dry. Especially the basking and the strange indulgence-

Sex doesn't happen that night. However, Shuichi ends up being cradled into Kokichi's bare chest. They lay quietly under think comforters. Both of them may as well be just one person, and Shuichi ends up bringing both of those hands- paler and more delicate in comparison, around his neck. Nothing is done with them. Merely a gentle grip and fond caressing. 

Those same fingers then glance against freshly dried hair, and Shuichi finds their lips being brought together. 

In the sheer lack of anything but moonlight by which to see… nothing looks quite real. Shuichi’s ugly excuses for eyes can only observe how peaceful yet worried Kokichi is. The beds deep and royal blue is little more than black underneath them. Perhaps Shuichi will return to his usual state tomorrow. He'll wake up and be able to scowl at Akamatsu during class. Afterwards, the boy can spend all day obsessing over how to make Kokichi happy. 

But the way that Kokichi's lips are soft- is real. 

And that is how Shuichi knows that he won't be able to bounce back. 

No one says anything the next school day. Even when classmates notice with naked interest the cat hairs on Shuichi’s bag, and that they both spend the whole walk there together. Akamatsu spends none of her time on them. Instead, as always, the girl stoically goes through the motions of being an admirable student. There's not enough days left in the year for it to matter either way. 

College becomes the focus of Shuichi’s sullen attentions. It overtakes most elements of his life, leaving his restless, taking the form of emails and exams. Kokichi is the rest of his time- a steady invader due to rebukes lacking. No scolding or disappointment is forthcoming. They find themselves living together more often than not, Kokichi's cat sleeping between them like a particularly wide folding screen. 

Kokichi himself doesn't seem to be much different from before. 

Both of the boys manage to continue with that cycle of too respectful attentiveness. Privately, Shuichi acknowledges that he's a bit sick of it. 

Of having such closeness without feeling worth more. Even if they haven't bathed together since, they sleep together almost each night and live together in all but name. Shuichi feels like he's going insane with how pent up he's getting. He knows exactly what Kokichi sounds like when having a wet dream. The boy can only be thankful that his boyfriend blasts music while cooking. 

It's hell to constantly be around the person who owns your heart, especially when it means that you can't touch your dick. Keep your hands to yourself can only be so much of a mantra. Shuichi finds himself in a figurative purgatory of lust, stricken, sitting on his fingers; living with someone you aren't sure you're allowed to touch is hell.

One night, he has to violently squash down the insomnia born urge to masturbate. There's no way Shuichi would just whip it out, jerking himself off under their shared covers, but damn if he doesn't want to. 

Shuichi wants to be the one staring up at the ceiling and slowly look over. To be the one guiltily bringing himself to completion while Kokichi sleep, soft exhales a wonderful background music. But those thoughts are just wild fantasies that occur right before bed. Everything else has long gone back to normal, except that now there's a housemate to contend with. 

Even saying that though… Kokichi has already found that treasure trove of illbegotten goods. Porn, gore, ero-guro porn; Shuichi’s precious and horrible bibles were unearthed in just days. The written down fantasies are no different. 

Those purple eyes have already seen everything. 

He's still expecting a flinch of distaste. Somehow though, Kokichi goes back to reread certain ones with a nonchalant yet present interest. 

Kokichi is living with Shuichi full time by the end of high school. Whatever the other boy's parents think is left to the ether. They never show, they're nowhere, despite how Shuichi is quite certain that they aren't dead. Shuichi’s own parents do make a showing for graduation. It doesn't last long, and neither of them make a mention of the obvious cohabitation- though matching aprons show up in the mail later. 

A matching, light blue and dark blue, apron set is as much recognition as anything else Shuichi has received. 

Which brings everything back to Shuichi’s very embarrassing present, "Ouma-kun… I'm- you, apron only?! Why, but that's dangerous because oil, naked!" 

Perhaps it's always too soon to think that Kokichi has settled into daily life. Sly, Kokichi smirks while clocking his hips and standing on his tiptoes. He leans forward just a bit and puckers his lips just a slightly. It's that which makes Shuichi drop the grocery bag in his hand, that and a realization. 

He has been tricked by his live in boyfriend. This however, absolutely, is not the stabbing related trick he usually imagines while walking home. No knife kinky events seem to be on the table. Shuichi is receiving nothing less than a naked apron. Quiet, the boy shuffles forward as if his feet are lead. 

No, no, his legs feel like molasses. 

Why does he have a tie and suit on? Oh, who cares. 

God it takes forever- but eventually Shuichi’s shaking hands are caressing those pale shoulders. Ones more broad than expected and with skin softer than flower petals. Yes, Shuichi has always wanted to do more than occasionally see them. Hungry eyes peek down at where dark blue fabric reveals slices of milky skin. 

Then he leans down to-

"Gggrhhhaaak!" Shuichi seizes up as an eleven pound fur creature cannonballs into his stomach, jaw slack, tired eyes popping open while oxygen becomes precious. "Chhhwhaaaan? Ohoooe fuck. What's the time,ngh why- oh it's seven."

Long and subdued is the groan that comes left of him. Chanchan pats mercilessly at Kokichi's rump even so. Finally Kokichi lets out a word, "Bwekfasthecovers…?", which Shuichi manages to understand as something else. Breakfast leftovers. 

"Yes pleeeaaaase," Shuichi yawns just as he fumbles out of bed. He then walks into the kitchen like a zombie, almost falling to his death when a catblob races past. It take one minute to be done- Chanchan gobbling food while coffee readies itself. Yesterday was his cooking day. Now, of course, it shall be his boyfriend's day to cook. 

But he can't forgive their fur baby for waking him up. So Shuichi puts his head down and rests on the table, eyes shut. 

It's later that same day that both boys are lounging on the sofa, bodies lax against blue velvet. The ending music for Dangan Ronpa plays while Shuichi allows Chanchan to sleep on him. She's very cute, and his favorite character has been executed. Each time is such a mournful occasion in the end. A third trial Blackened too. New Dangan Ronpa v2 isn't holding any punches at all. 

Mudwater eyes flick over to a thoughtful face. Kokichi stares down at his phone, those beautiful purple hues already darkened with wickedness. No punches will be held, Shuichi muses, for Kokichi hasn't left behind the art of internet trolling. 

The fish swim peacefully behind them. 

"Was she done dirty…?" the boy playfully asks, one hand resting on a paw. He can tell that Kokichi once again thinks that this was fair play. Sympathy for the Blackened is actually rare in Kokichi, which is rather exciting. "A lot of people will be doing that thing you hate. Whitewashing her. Ouma-kun, will you write anything?" 

A solemn stare is levied at him while Kokichi tilts his head, fingers hovering, "Mmmnah. Hm."

[For tonight, I want to relax and try stuff… Since both of us have done what we need to. You don't like thinking about it but it's fine now. But we can't do it here because of the hairball,] Kokichi soon shows off, passively watching Shuichi freeze. 

Gulping, both cold sweats and heated chills break out on him. Shuichi’s innards squirm as his limbs twitch. He's laying back one moment and then lurching up the next. It's true that even his subconscious thoughts avoid the topic. Thinking about it, his therapy sessions, is like a strangely impossible task: Shuichi’s mind blanks it out during daily life. 

He's still embarrassed about going. 

Especially because it was so easy to actually start, and the boy isn't sure why he stopped. At least his parents are still grand enablers either way. Now he can even say that he himself, Saihara Shuichi, has just been released from metaphorical gates; the boy is buzzing so much that he wants to rip his skin off. Just a little bit due to the butterflies clogging up his cells. 

So maybe the stuff he read on the Internet about coping wasn't actually a good and true method, of course, but also-

"Do…" Shuichi’s lobster red face turns towards the door as though his parents are actually coming home. He squeaks, heart pounding like the sound of his own guilty consciousness,"Sex?! Sex?" 

Kokichi slowly blinks at him. 

Chanchan hops down to the floor. 

Kokichi's lips twitch, and then he bursts out laughing while nodding.

Jokes on him since all Shuichi can think is: Wow, I bet Kokichi's asshole is cute too. He cleans himself until he's spotless after all, so it's probably going to be cute and small and pink! If I bite Kokichi's neck enough then he'll have a lot of alluring bruises. Kokichi. Kokichi is going have sex with me and then we'll have more sex, probably?! Wait are we going to a love hotel? Oh God I'm gonna have sex in a love hotel because of a cat. Oh thank God we won't dirty Chanchan's gaze. She opens doors now. 

The boy flops back onto the velveteen couch and grins, full of perverted willow. 

Which is very much not what Shuichi is full of when they walking into the room. 

A love hotel's rooms are always themed. They're tailored to achieve fantasies, and to allow couples to go wild in private. Kokichi's fantasies are seemingly pure though. It takes a moment to fully understand that the room is designed to be like a wedding incarcerated. One now imprisoned, for Shuichi and Kokichi's eyes only. 

Before them is a bed shaped like a heart, clad in thick white. Lace frames the perfectly soft looking pillows. One of which is a startling kind of red. Dotting around are rose petals- pink-white to deep burgundy, which find themselves disturbed by Kokichi's fingers. They fly towards Shuichi’s blotchy face and flutter towards his feet. Still, he takes in Kokichi's smug smile and more little details. No end can be found after all. 

Shuichi’s eyes drift towards sweet and silky looking 'nothings', but he's incapable of comprehending lacy wedding lingerie. 

"W… Well-ll. This is a very. Good."

He slowly shambles onto the bed while avoiding Kokichi's gaze. They're going to have sex now, even though Shuichi is still a gross greasy person who gets off to R18G materials. Pale hands clench at cloth covered knees. Eyes shift upwards, at gauzy white drapes which could be used to surround the whole bed. Shuichi spots fairy lights as well. 

It definitely feels like a wedding themed room. Giving an almost delicate kind of nervousness, like a bride's virginal first time- and it's not like Kokichi isn't living with him now. Maybe they are a bit married already. 

Kokichi gently pats the boy's shoulder without fear. Shuichi tenses before turning toward his boyfriend, and then his eyes zero in on a bottle. His mouth dries while his jaw drops, shock obvious in his eyes, all as a bottle full of red waves back and forth. It looks like a vial full of blood. 

There's no way that Kokichi would just carry something like that around. Which means that there's just one little option left. Shuichi is staring at a bottle full of blood colored lube. He wheezes, glancing from pale fingers, to the bottle, and to Kokichi's haughty grin. 

"Saichan, bathroom," Kokichi carefully states, snickering while his mouth puts each sound into order. "Now."

Nothing is holding the boy back to darting into the barely enclosed shower. And by that he means that he near throws himself inside. The whole bathroom is practically tease, made so that the inner ongoings are hidden yet almost obvious. Shuichi’s time in the shower is definitely shown via frosted glass. His shadowy silhouette feels the same as exposure. 

Just getting to hear Kokichi's voice is sending the boy into a tizzy. 

When he's down there another realization. Just a possibility, that maybe Kokichi plans on topping. Damp hair and eyes full of internal screaming peek out from behind a door. The other boy is… 

Kokichi is wearing the lingerie and he's adorable. Oh fuck, is the immediate reaction, and that's when Shuichi decides to just do the enema anyway. It's a strange and almost invasive kind of feeling. Which makes perfect sense, but in the end he's more embarrassed than ever before. Perhaps anal is way more involved than all of Shuichi’s porn has let on. Just reading about the actual logistics didn't prepare him at all. 

Gently sitting down on the bed makes it all feel very real, suddenly. 

Eyes swirling with anticipation and apprehension dart over- Shuichi gulping when he notices how focused Kokichi is. All of the other boy's attention is locked onto him. Those hands soon rest on Shuichi’s thighs, barely covered by a thick red towel, and soft lips capture his own. Slowly, they coax Shuichi’s mouth into opening and his breath into growing heavy. It's a sweet kind of kiss. 

"Shhuuuichi," is the murmuring that curls into his ears, low and coy while Kokichi's hands lock behind Shuichi’s neck. A faint nibble begins as they become intertwined, "It's good?" 

He's so hard that it near aches, and Shuichi isn't even fully erect yet. There's no way for him to put that kind of fact into words though. So he wraps his own arms around Kokichi's body and pulls them closer together. Likewise, he glances over to the now abandoned lube and dreams- images of it leaking out around his cock filling his head. All of it will stain, all the white fabric, by the end they'll be messes of red and physical exertion. 

It's hard to avoid shaking from the sheer unadulterated excitement. 

A fond giggle and a soft hand both pat at Shuichi’s skin. They untaggle themselves like the flustered idiots that Kokichi loves to call them, Kokichi's fingers twitching while Shuichi buzzes inside. His butterflies are razor edged riots that want his organs to pour out- and the boy is happy to accept that. Because he's sure that whatever he'll have left is more than good enough.

Within seconds the bottle of lube and a condom are both on display. Kokichi smiles beguilingly, taunting in how he's posing himself elegantly. The condom rises up into the air like an offer. 

"You… Ouma! Ouma-kun can top me- I'll, I cleaned out," Shuichi’s voice becomes a helpless wheeze while his mind goes off kilter. "I'll let Ouma-kun mess me up and cover me with all kinds of b-bruises…"

Purple eyes blink and Kokichi's head tilts, the condom slowly dropping back to the bed while both hands scramble for a familiar cellphone. Kokichi's lips seem stuck between and grin and a confused frown. Finally he smacks his phone and quickly shoves it into Shuichi's face, [What?! But I thought you'd want to wreck me? I mean sure obviously not all the time, but do you have any idea how much horny stupid energy you have? You look like you'd stick your dick in blood pudding.]

[Also I swear to all that is holy, I'm fine with a bit of roughing up.]

Blushing, Shuichi looks down at the now tented towel protecting his dignity, "But. Dont- I Don't want to hurt Ouma-kun at all. Yet, or first time, so I'd rather have less chances. Especially with that. Your…"

[Right right we're protective of my delicate anus meat, got it.]

"Nooo, don't say it like that!" Shuichi impulsively cries, mouth wobbling and ears burning, shoving the towel into his face just to hide his eyes. Even though they haven't done anything too. He's just so embarrassed despite wanting Kokichi's teeth to sink into him. 

Then he's being dragged further into the confines of the bed. Shuichi’s light-hearted shock is paired with confusion, which is answered by an impish smile. He's laying down in the middle of soft silky fabric, surrounded by white, while transparent delicates drape around him. Kokichi has him encased by wedding finery on all sides. 

Slowly, the boy spreads his legs while his boyfriend shifts above him. 

It'll really be ending like this, Shuichi eventually muses while watching a smug Kokichi stare down at him. Like those bright eyes are swallowing him up too. Shuichi is being devoured even though Kokichi is the one dressed up like a gift. He's going to be deflowered for sure, to which his mouth begins to salivate, and the way Kokichi's hands begin to caress him echo that. 

[Maaaaybe I can top just this once. It's not like I haven't considered pinning you down too! Next time though I'll do it in your parent's bed. Anyway, if something isn't good or you want to stop… Tell me to fuck off!] Kokichi shows him those words, but Shuichi can only squeak as the device is tossed onto a nightstand. 

One second later and the lights are dimmed, with only the fairy lights at full brightness. Shuichi wheezes, eyes wide behind a cage of his own fingers, and he watches Kokichi's panties fly into a corner. They're both around the same average size. Even so, Kokichi's cock looks way more intimidating than usual. It must be due to the lighting or Shuichi’s own nerves. 

Not that his own dick is even remotely flaccid. Shuichi looks down at it and then quickly looks away, knowing that the thing is twitching due to all this. It's not fair that Kokichi gets closer in though. Glancing back means that Shuichi gets a more direct comparison too, which makes him hiss. For a moment their clocks are laying against one another while Kokichi hums. 

Kokichi's foreskin is completely exposed- while Shuichi’s cock is just a bit bigger and a deeper red… 

Maybe next time can be oral, the boy considers while drool catches in the corners of his mouth. It's only fair to look and then want to taste it. Shuichi’s free hand ends up slapping itself over his mouth. Especially when he makes strange little noises at the sight of a nice looking vein on Kokichi's prick. 

The bottle ends up snapping open like a final warning. Immediately, Shuichi spreads his legs wide and tries to hold back his need to hide. Being so exposed is new to him. He doesn't even have his hat on, and Kokichi can definitely see everything. A happy hum serves as the other boy's judgment. 

Red liquid slowly pours out of the bottle. The color is so realistic and enthralling that Shuichi’s entire body shudders. His hips just barely buck, and the fingers protecting his sight slide down. Kokichi's eyes make ruthless contact while his lips tug into a proud sneer. Leer even, and it's a look that Shuichi can't help but melt into. 

Fingers coated in blood, if only fake, drift down towards Shuichi’s groin. A stuttering gasp and a lewd groan, the boy struggling to contain himself with just one touch. His eyelashes flutter at the cool temperature. It feels like his going to burst open already. 

Kokichi merely licks his lips. 

It feels pathetic to reach down and pull himself open, but Shuichi does it anyway. There's no way that he would just let himself cum this soon. Orgasming can't happen until Kokichi is inside- that's the logic running through his mind. He's already throbbing just from the constant images in his head. Kokichi shoving inside of him while Shuichi is on hand and knees, all sorts of past fantasies. 

Paired with desires for things much less normal, Shuichi is needy. 

"Ouma-kun can start, please?" he breathes, muscles tightening and relaxing while red fingers trail down his erection. They spread that same beautiful color, which grows just a bit pink when thin, and Shuichi groans at the sight. "Please…"

Kokichi smiles innocently before obliging, white lace framing him as a blushing bride when he is anything but. It's with real glee that he bares his teeth and then empties even more lube onto Shuichi’s body. The stuff freely trickles down pale skin, and onto sheets, covering the boy with bright and bloody lubricant. Shuichi finds himself biting into his hand when those soft fingers begin to rub at his entrance. 

Rubbing in that false blood- creating slick noises while Shuichi spreads the now marred flesh of his ass apart. There's already stains being added onto Kokichi's lingerie. If it were really blood then, ah. Shuichi’s head falls back onto the decorative pillow behind him. A finger steadily dips inside of him. First just a hint, then a bit more, until finally that first knuckle is resting within. 

A deep breath escapes the boy as a huff. 

It isn't really blood, but Shuichi’s mind fixate on it. For a moment he even feels a bit faint. There's so much that Kokichi would have had to maybe kill someone, or maybe ravage Shuichi completely. Like a lustful demon that Shuichi has offered himself up to. A fun concept, one that makes the boy clench up momentarily. 

Shuichi ends up with both hands over his face and both feet just barely on the bed, his body trembling. Kokichi never stops his slow yet steady actions. He works Shuichi open with the patience of a saint , or a sadist, adding more movement and pressure as time goes on. 

Those fingers are turning his insides into something way too sensitive. More enter him, and more get to feel his body begging for Kokichi to do something else. Kokichi keeps snickering at each noise he creates too. As if Shuichi’s moans and unending breathing are prime entertainment. No stopping- even when more strangled groans are made. Shuichi’s eyes squeeze shut as those fingers press into the one spot Kokichi found. 

"I… I-I sssaid please!" the boy grunts, glaring up past his hands and swallowing before more drool can travel down his chin. 

Another pointed smirk is his reward, and then his head tips back so that he can shout- wordless while his prostate is lovingly toyed with. He can't imagine how long Kokichi must have been preparing for this. Wide eyed, Shuichi’s entire body arches into the other boy's space. Everything about him is alive with miniscule movements. Perhaps he's going just a bit crazy too. 

"Bite me, bite me bite me bite me," Shuichi murmurs, his lips quirking up and spreading wide, face flushed while his body goes limp against the bed. "Kokichi, k-k-hhha?!" 

The sound of a condom being unwrapped brings him back to the present. 

Watching Kokichi cover his penis with the latex is a bit saddening. That said, Shuichi also thinks that having to get semen out of himself would feel weird. He can't blame Kokichi for not wanting to try barebacking either. It is a shame though, really, that Shuichi can't just open up another part of himself- and have Kokichi ejaculate all over a different kind of insides.

Gulping, Kokichi and Shuichi make proper eye contact. The head of Kokichi's cock slowly breaches him- slowly makes its way past Shuichi’s now sensitive sphincter. Intense, overwhelming, even as their bodies are suspended in the very beginning of sex. Shuichi hisses from the sheer discomfort and stretch. Yet he laughs deeply too, delirious from the look on Kokichi's face. Kokichi isn't too far off from fucking his guts. 

Pleasure absolutely suits him, as does the luxurious white of his well stained ensemble. Shuichi eyes the pinkish red and idly imagines this exact scene in Dangan Ronpa, just them but in that wonderful show. 

Inside of him is a satisfying burn. Above him is a Kokichi who bites his lip and grips tightly. Shuichi is most certainly in some kind of heaven now. He's all but split open, his hands wringing gorgeous sheets until they're further ruined. 

He's being made to accommodate Kokichi's erect member… 

Shuichi’s vision blurs when Kokichi sinks further in.   
His body jerks, hands darting upwards as his boyfriend ends up fully embracing him. They're both wound up tightly and pressed together too- Shuichi going so far as to wrap his legs around the smaller male. Faint giggles are teetering out from his slack and drooling mouth. Delicate fabric digs into the boy, all while Kokichi's cock rests within him. 

"I'll cum," he warns with obvious delight. Shuichi’s hazy eyes close, his left hand stroking silky hair, and the boy grunts when teeth nip at his collarbones. "Kokichi, Kokichi's dick- it feels so big like this. There's so much blood and it's hot too. I lost…" 

"Not blood."

High pitched mewls escape from Kokichi's throat, his hips bucking helplessly as Shuichi tries to make them both move. The boy growls and then forces him up. Eyes burning with indignation, pupils dilated, Kokichi's hands force sweaty shoulders down. Shuichi basks in how those fingernails bite at him. 

The smile on Shuichi’s face twitches, "But it feels like it. It feels like you're ruining me, and it's so red. M' sorry. If you bite me then maybe more will come out?! Ehehehe." 

Kokichi slowly begins to hum, staring down at Shuichi as if judging him in some important way. It's soon after that he moves again. He smiles with a hint of tension while thrusting clumsily. The feeling is still one that makes them both groan. One quiet, and the other near delirious in how Shuichi forgets himself. Even the bed itself is loud as both of them start trying to gain more. 

More pleasant feelings, more of that tightness or that forceful stretch, more of one another; their bodies grow sweaty while all a manner of obscene noises fill the air. It's obvious that neither of them have experience too. Kokichi keeps stopping to try and find a rhythm. Shuichi isn't sure how to thrust his hips at all, and ends up just using his whole body to rock forward. But it feels more good than anything like bad. 

"Please, please please cum! Kokiiichi n-nheeeds to-" Shuichi lets out a shrill shout when teeth rip into him, each bite and suck frenzied while ineligible mutters are made against his skin. The boy's voice chokes itself into silence. His mind spins so much that his only reaction is to drool, with a smattering of gurgles, when Kokichi's sloppy thrusting makes him hit gold. 

A song of white noise and wounded moans. 

Shuichi’s hands scratch relentlessly at whatever they can. He can feel their nails tear at skin, and he loves the hints of whimpering they garner. One of his legs falls limply onto the bed beneath them. Then, Kokichi's hoarse voice echoing, his fingers and nails cut through skin and draw blood from a sweaty back. 

Glazed over eyes slide closed. Kokichi's hands dig red lines down an exposed chest, his own pale digits yank roughly at Shuichi’s nipples and pinch- both of them are luxuriating in the same kind of lack. There's nothing like proprietary or common sense left. Cresent moons are dug into soft skin. Red lines multiply while bruise bloom. Shuichi is flying so high that he's dizy, and Kokichi's hands on his cock send him crashing down. 

"Fuck! F-fhhuuuah?! Koki… nnnngh, I'll cum I'll cum-" 

He can't even attempt to scold himself, because he's lost in his own orgasm. It's been far too long since the boy has had a proper one. And Kokichi, his lovely Kokichi, his grinning down at him like a maniacal beast. Cum spurts out onto their stomachs in endless bursts. Kokichi even rears back to watch, and laughs at Shuichi’s faint convulsions and winces. 

The last rope of semen hits just under Shuichi’s right eye. A good amount drips into his open mouth. It pools together with excess saliva, and Kokichi's own spit soon joins. Shuichi himself is finally limp, muscles he didn't even know existed aching, but he's not resting- the boy is being fucked senseless. His boyfriend's hips are still slamming into him with stutters and inexperienced bucks. 

Eyes half closed, Kokichi's expression is crumbling into a genuine mix of want and weakness. From his mouth is an endless stream of choked noises, words and moans, followed by licks and bites. The pain is sharp but pleasant. Shuichi’s limbs tremble while he pulls Kokichi closer. Indeed, the boy feels like an absolute wreck even as he exposes his now wounded neck. More stabs of pain make his back arch. 

Being drunk on these sensations is the only explanation. Kokichi's cock feels good inside of him, and those hands were great, the bites… However, both of them are very horrible at this too. 

Shuichi is certain that these haphazard attempts at sex will make him extremely sore. Then, probably, the atmosphere is part of why he came. It's the feeling of that fake blood and the now present scent of genuine iron. Being so close to the person he loves too. 

Red, which Shuichi’s gold eyes can barely spot under his fingernails. 

Kokichi voice fills his ears with a wobbling and long cry, their bodies smacking together wetly while Kokichi grunts and huffs. He's just fucking into Shuichi like an animal while a faint warmth fills the later. Whatever romantic qualities they had are gone now- and all that's left is Shuichi’s body accepting all that Kokichi gives him. It's a kind of simplicity that the boy finds himself liking. The act of being a receptacle for his boyfriend's lust. Completely contrary to how Kokichi is dressed, but that's just a bonus. 

Addled, Shuichi momentarily listens to the hitching of his own breath. Should Kokichi turn him into this more often, then, ah… 

"H-hurts," Shuichi happily croons, twitching and spasming while Kokichi collapses onto him. More bites are scattered across the now mottled skin of Shuichi’s chest. Tiny fingers hold onto him too, Kokichi now the same kind of afterglow afflicted doll. A relieved smile spreads across Shuichi’s face. "M- mmm' happy. It's starting to come out…"

Purple eyes open and then drift up to Shuichi’s lips. Kokichi forces himself closer, sweat and cum sticking to their bodies, and he shyly sucks at Shuichi’s bottom lip. 

"Good? Ah, sh-shhh. Shuichi," the other boy quiets when Shuichi tosses them both onto their sides. Kokichi's outfit is totally ruined. It's stained with pink, red, and semen; the ephemeral white lace and mysterious chiffon are a sticky mess. 

Just a glance down reveals that Kokichi's entire groin is covered with the same kind of mess. The condom is broken too, likely from being put on improperly or something similar. Both of them are definitely- Shuichi whimpers as cum escapes his twitching hole in earnest. Kokichi's eyes widen innocently as he looks down and fully realizes what just happened. He gawks at the break in the condom and then scrambles to see, nervous. Both hands gently turning Shuichi over and onto his stomach. 

"Sorry, I'll clean!" Kokichi hisses, voice low and flustered. But then he freezes. 

Moaning, Shuichi rubs himself into the bedding and asks, "Am… Am I ruined that m-much? Hey, did you make me that sloppy?" 

A growl makes the boy looks back. Just as he does there's a rough yank on his arm, and Shuichi whines while the body again on top of his leans down. Kokichi ruthlessly bends him just enough for soreness to spike. It makes Shuichi smile and laugh, as does the damp heat of a mouth, but then he shrieks. Pain blossoms around one of his fingers. Teeth clamp around like an overly final ring. 

Shuichi collapses back into the bed while semen made almost pink, from fetishistic lube, runs down his thighs and ass. It's a touch too much for the boy to handle in the end. He inhales harshly while allowing Kokichi to bite harder and harder. The ferocity is enjoyable, even though he himself is quickly falling into a stupor. Perhaps he's even going unconscious. Not a shame at all, he manages to think. Even if only his ass will get to leak Kokichi's sperm- this is more than good enough. 

Either way, the boy has never imagined that sex would actually be this nice. He's so sore and certainly not of the mind that it was perfect- neither of them were too confident to begin with. Still.

"We'll be married now…" he hears Kokichi mutter against a surely cut finger. 

One gentle lick somewhat burns, proof of Kokichi's own impulses, but Shuichi merely groans at the feeling of slick and bumpy taste buds. After that's there's a s matter of movement. Kokichi brings over what seems to be a first aide kit. Not that Shuichi is aware enough to register everything. He's too busy drifting off, spent. 

"Let's make a bit more real someday," Shuichi sleepily murmurs. "Like fisting so you can. Mmm. Kokichi can touch my… Organs… Ahah."

Kokichi's incredulous cough sends Shuichi off to a deep, satisfied, sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter we put things to rest, clarify what the hell Kokichi has actually been trying to say, and don't interrupt coitus. 
> 
> There's gonna be pain. 
> 
> Shuichi is calmer here because he's a bit more stable. Having someone around irl has helped him. Especially since it's Kokichi ewe;


End file.
